Trouble Breathing
by leftrightbrain
Summary: Based on a gkm prompt where Kurt snaps after the events of the finale. How many people have to get hurt before Kurt can stop hurting? And how far will Blaine go to make things better for the one he loves? SerialKiller!Kurt, Blaine is the submissive partner in crime. Dark humor. Warnings: Violence, gore, character death, sex.
1. Prologue

_This is a fill for Round 15 of the glee kink meme. __Enjoy!_

"I'm seriously having trouble breathing right now," Kurt whispered.

"This is the last moment before we know. And after we open those envelopes, it's going to change our entire lives, no matter what's in it," Finn said.

"No matter what happens, we're all here for each other," Rachel nodded as Finn opened his envelope.

"I didn't get in."

Kurt pressed his eyes shut. He knew that Finn was a longshot to get into Pace, but that didn't make it any easier when he saw his brother's dreams crashing down around him.

Rachel patted Finn's arm, saying "It'll be okay." Finn didn't react to the gesture, but Kurt would not have blamed him for brushing her off right then. How exactly was it supposed to be "okay"? Finn had no plan, no dream left other than following Rachel to New York and bringing her diet cokes.

It was Kurt's turn to open his letter. He mentally prepared himself to reign in his reaction, not wanting to cause Finn and probably Rachel any pain. He had been a ball of nerves for weeks, but truth be told he had very little doubt after his audition. It had been absolutely perfect, and even Rachel had said he was at his best. Kurt knew that if he didn't stand in his own way, nothing else could stop him.

He read the letter four times before saying anything, not able to fully believe the words on the page. It slowly sunk in, and he became aware of two pairs of eyes trained on his face. "I didn't get in... I didn't get in," he said in a hushed voice.

Rachel took the letter from Kurt's hands and read it herself, like she couldn't believe it either. Finn placed a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder, the pain of the moment and the solid contact bonding the two boys even further. "Your turn, Rachel," he said. Rachel turned to the stool and picked up her own envelope, turning away from the boys to read it.

As she turned back around, Kurt felt his insides twisting. He knew before she said anything.

"I got in."

Kurt felt like he was drowning. His breath was hitching but the oxygen didn't seem to be making it through his lungs. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. This was wrong. This was meaningless and pointless and stupid.

He blinked and remembered that this was his friend, this was Rachel, and he was supposed to be happy for her. They all had agreed to be there for each other. He turned the corners of his mouth into the closest semblance of a smile he could possibly manage while his heart was being ripped to shreds.

"Congratulations, Rachel Berry. You deserve it." Kurt wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug, willing the tears not to fall. Kurt resisted his strong desire to pull away from Rachel, who was now crying too. He transferred her to Finn's arms and bolted from the room.

He needed to find Blaine.

**A/N: Disclaimer: Diet coke makes a cameo in this and any other fic of mine not because Chris Colfer loves diet coke (I'm aware of that, and it's adorable) but because I love diet coke. Any resemblance between myself and Chris Colfer is surely a fluke because he's amazing and I'm a loser. Dietcokebrain 4 eva.**


	2. I'll Do Anything

**- PART ONE: I'LL DO ANYTHING -**

The crying was becoming a little bit distracting.

Blaine scooted up on the bed and kissed away Kurt's tears for the fourth time. "We don't have to do this right now, we can stop," Blaine whispered.

"No." Kurt said, forcefully. "I need this right now. I need to feel something else besides despair. You can do that for me, can't you, baby?" Kurt's demanding tone had shifted to a pleading one. He blinked away the last of the tears and looked at Blaine with the expression he always used when he wanted something very badly.

As Kurt's soft, pink lower lip started to pout, Blaine felt his legs turn to jelly. He couldn't say "no" to Kurt when he used those eyes, and the older boy knew it.

"Of course," Blaine sighed, "...lay back and relax. I just want to make you feel good." He dropped gentle kisses at the cleft of Kurt's neck, then kissed up his collarbone until he found a particularly sensitive spot. Kurt's body writhed underneath him, his hands clenching Blaine's biceps. Blaine moaned in response and thrust against Kurt's thigh, while carrying on with his attack on the delicate skin.

That elegant neck definitely made the top ten list of "Blaine's favorite parts of Kurt". It was long, and set off Kurt's shoulders and jawline perfectly. Why must he always cover it up with scarves and turtlenecks?.

Kurt's hands snaked up to Blaine's chest and he pushed back squarely against him. Blaine took the hint and pulled back from Kurt's neck, grinning eagerly at his boyfriend as Kurt grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over. He knew that this meant he had done a good job with the foreplay.

"Mmm, Blaine, you are just so precious," Kurt purred, kissing Blaine's forehead and down the side of his face. "I am going to totally destroy you tonight." He bit Blaine's earlobe and moaned.

Blaine, overwhelmed by sensation, couldn't help but reach around and dig his tanned fingers into Kurt's bare ass cheeks, tugging the leanly muscled body tightly against his own.

"No, Precious," Kurt snapped, grabbing Blaine's wrists. He pinned both hands with one of his own, and continued licking and biting Baine's ear and nuzzling into his curls.

"Oh my god, Kurt," Blaine gasped, his cock twitching, unable to find purchase against any part of Kurt. "What if... what if I resisted? I... I NEED you. I could try and get free so I could do what I wanted... would you... what would you do?"

Kurt cocked an eyebrow and pulled away from Blaine's earlobe to study his face. In the months since their first time, the boys had explored their sexuality together, but they hadn't tried any true kinks yet.

Kurt had discovered new aspects to his personality as part of his sexual awakening, and it had affected the way the two interacted. Blaine had gone from confident and aloof to clingy, vulnerable and jealous, but Kurt didn't mind. Kurt had the upper hand in the relationship, and this Blaine would never dream of pulling that crap with Sebastian.

Even if Kurt had to sing the occasional emotionally-laden song to bring Blaine back into line, that was all right too. He was still the one in control. The more Kurt thought about it, the more sense it made that Blaine might turn out to have a thing for BDSM. This was a development worth exploring.

"For starters, I could tie your hands right to that bedpost," Kurt breathed into Blaine's ear. "Or I could get some handcuffs, pin your wrists behind your back and cuff them there so that those naughty hands would be completely out of my way. Or..." Kurt noticed that Blaine's cock was straining and leaking precome. Kurt paused to grip the base, lapping up the moisture, then pursed his lips and blew across the tip. Blaine gasped and buried his fingers in Kurt's hair, tugging his head forward and down onto Blaine's cock. It was exactly the reaction Kurt had been trying to provoke.

"Naughty boy," Kurt hissed, prying himself out of Blaine's grasp and pinning his wrists at his sides. "Maybe what you need is for me to cuff your wrists to your ankles and leave you that way. Bent in half, at my mercy for whatever I wanted to do to you." Kurt balanced on top of Blaine's body and gently thrust his cock against Blaine's, teasing him into oblivion.

"K...k... kurt..." Blaine choked, "I can't even... that's so hot, oh my god. Please do that. Please, baby, please."

"I like the sound of you begging me, gorgeous." Kurt smirked down at the boy. "What would you do to earn that?"

"Anything, Kurt." Blaine panted. "Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything you ask of me, I'm yours."

Kurt grinned widely and dove down to Blaine's entrance, tonguing the boy open in preparation, determined to fuck him until he screamed.

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Kurt reclined on the pillows, trailing his fingers through Blaine's hair and thinking. Blaine slept peacefully on his shoulder, one arm wrapped tightly around Kurt's waist. Kurt tried not to dwell on the future, but dark thoughts kept pushing into his mind. _It's just not fair. Even with the Nationals performance, how could Rachel get accepted after her horrible audition? It just doesn't make any sense. I have to make it make sense or I'm going to go insane._

Kurt was dragged out of his thoughts when Blaine stirred next to him. Honey-colored eyes framed by extra-long lashes blinked sleepily up to meet Kurt's blue ones. "Are you okay, baby?" Blaine asked, brushing a thumb along Kurt's cheekbone. "I will be," Kurt lied.

"How can I help?" Blaine asked, smiling sweetly at Kurt's optimism.

"Let's just talk about something else," Kurt said, looking off to the side and smiling slightly. "You know, earlier it kind of seemed like you might have a thing for being tied up."

Blaine blushed and hid his face in Kurt's chest. "Maybe, I guess... I never really thought about it until you pinned my wrists like that."

"Don't be embarrassed. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We can explore it, if you're comfortable with it." At Kurt's words, Blaine's cock began to awaken. "Really?" he asked, gazing at Kurt lovingly.

"Of course we can. Do you have any other kinks or fantasies you would like to experiment with? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," Kurt teased, bopping Blaine on the nose with a fingertip.

"Nothing I actually want to experiment with," Blaine replied, averting his eyes from Kurt's face and blushing anew.

"But you do have other fantasies? Come on, tell me. You can tell me anything, you know," Kurt wheedled. "Please? Even something completely out there, crazy, I really want to know." Kurt employed "the look" again for the second time that evening, tilting Blaine's chin up to look into his eyes.

"I... um..." Blaine said, helpless and transfixed by Kurt's eyes, blue-green and sparkling in the dim light, yet still holding traces of all of the day's pain. "Okay, but this really, really isn't something I'm trying to actually do." He paused.

"Go on..." Kurt encouraged. "Sometimes," Blaine continued, "I fantasize about... a threesome. You and another guy, maybe a stranger from a bar. But you're always there. Always. You're the only one I really want." Blaine felt a pang of desperation and it echoed in his voice, hoping that Kurt didn't take offense.

"Calm down, Blaine," Kurt chuckled, brushing a stray curl out of his lover's eyes. "I understand completely. There's something dirty about it, the randomness. We were each other's firsts, but it's hot to think about getting a little slutty sometimes, right? But it's still the two of us together. It makes perfect sense."

Blaine relaxed, his mind swimming with love and lust. "You're so good to me, Kurt. I love you so much." Kurt smiled down at him, and kissed him softly. "I love you too, Blaine."

Blaine snuggled into Kurt's chest again, closing his eyes in bliss. "Your turn. Do you have any fantasies you want to tell me about?" Blaine mumbled.

"Well, there is one thing..."


	3. Music of the Night

**A/N: We're getting to the good stuff now! I hope everyone is enjoying themselves. Please leave a review if you like it, even if it's short. Heck, leave a review even if you don't like it! It is delightful to get them and it makes me want to write more. I hope to knock out a couple more chapters tomorrow.**

**- PART TWO: MUSIC OF THE NIGHT -**

Blaine stepped out of the car and tugged at his shirt, then briskly walked around to the passenger side to open the passenger side door for Kurt. He extended his hand to assist Kurt out of the car, gawking openly once again at the way Kurt's pants flattered his legs and ass.

Kurt was wearing skin-tight white leather pants and his white doc martins, topped with a clingy v-neck sweater that was slightly see-through. He had spiked his hair a bit, and put on some eyeliner for the occasion. Blaine smiled at Kurt and wrapped his arms around his waist, groping Kurt's toned midsection through the sweater. Kurt kissed Blaine quickly and led the way into the nightclub.

An hour later, the boys were on their second drink each, and Kurt seemed to be losing himself in the music. Blaine admired the sheen of sweat on his skin and the way his hips swiveled as they danced together. He placed a hand on Kurt's waist and shot a quick glare at the nearest of the many guys who were unabashedly staring at his boyfriend.

Blaine was pleased that his suggestion for the evening had been such a hit. They had often tossed around the idea of dressing to the nines and driving down to Dayton to go to a real gay club, not a backwater dive bar like Scandals. Now, after the disastrous previous day, both boys were ready for some new surroundings.

Like Mr. Schue had said, the future was full of new experiences to be had, even if it didn't include NYADA. Blaine had complete faith in Kurt, and he knew his boyfriend would do amazing things no matter where he ended up. Blaine just hoped desperately that Kurt would choose to keep him along for the journey.

Kurt leaned in to speak directly into Blaine's ear over the pounding music. "Something on your mind, gorgeous?" Blaine thought for a moment before responding, self-censoring anything that might upset Kurt.

"I was just thinking that it's always good to try new things. We're young, it's good that we're living a little and having fun."

"I couldn't agree more," Kurt grinned wickedly. "Actually, I was just thinking of something else we could try... or someone." The last part was said so softly that Blaine was sure he hadn't heard correctly over the cacophony of dance music and bawdy conversations.

Kurt darted around Blaine to the bar, leaving the shorter boy spinning, trying and failing to keep the connection of his hand to Kurt's waist. Kurt bounced up to the bar and ordered another drink, flashing a look at a boy seated on the stool to his right. "And another round of whatever he's having." Kurt winked at the bartender and batted his eyelashes at the boy at the bar.

Blaine blinked in shock at the scene unfolding in front of him. "And another one for me, too, please" he said to the bartender, holding up his empty beer bottle. "I'm gonna need it," Blaine muttered to no one in particular. Blaine didn't like the way this stranger, slim and handsome with a strong chin, straight brown hair and dark blue eyes, was ogling HIS Kurt.

"Do you come here often?" Kurt said to the strange boy, "You're adorable, but you don't look old enough to get in."

"You don't either," the blue-eyed stranger said, "you or your friend there. But there are ways around that, right?" He toyed with the brightly-colored scarf tied around his neck, possibly Hermes or a knockoff.

Blaine bristled at the word "friend", but he was afraid to step in. Blaine had been the one who had broached the idea of a threesome, though it was just a fantasy and he thought he had been clear about that. More importantly, Kurt was having fun, and Blaine didn't want to get in the way of that. He trusted Kurt to stop before things got out of control.

"So what brings you here tonight? Besides a fake ID." Kurt rested his hand on his chin and batted his eyelashes again.

"I'm celebrating, actually," the boy said, taking a sip of the drink that had appeared in front of him. "I just graduated high school, and today I found out I'm going to my dream school in the fall."

Kurt's eyes widened in shock, and his forced smile threatened to crack his face in half. Blaine placed a worried hand on Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt brushed it away.

"You know, you look familiar, what did you say your name was, again?"

"I didn't. Gavroche. After a character in Les Mis." Gavroche beamed at Kurt and offered a handshake in mock formality.

Kurt took the extended hand, grinning. Blaine could see the tension building in his face, noticed a tell-tale twitch of the eyebrow. Kurt was struggling not to explode.

"I thought so. Kurt Hummel. We met at the NYADA mixer in the fall. I take it you got in?" Kurt asked, his voice rising higher.

Suddenly, Kurt's reaction made sense. Blaine felt anxiety knife through him. The whole point of coming to the club that night had been for Kurt to forget all about NYADA. Blaine felt helpless to prevent the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Yeah. It's a dream come true. I can't wait for the fall. Did you apply? It would be great to know someone else who is going." Gavroche asked, his eyes shining.

"I, um, decided to go in another direction. I'll be doing something different in the fall," Kurt replied. He jutted out his hip and leaned in to whisper in the other boy's ear. Gavroche's eyes flew open wide, and when Kurt grabbed his hand and led him away from the bar he eagerly followed. Blaine sighed and hurried after the pair.

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Blaine wondered if they had reached the point where things were out of control, yet.

He had his back pressed up against the wall of the motel room, his shirt off and his pants undone with his cock out. Gavroche was completely naked with his arm around Blaine's neck, kissing his shoulder and stroking Blaine's cock roughly. Kurt only had his shirt off. He was currently on his knees fingering Gavroche open, pressing him onto Blaine's chest as he dove deeper.

Gavroche was attractive enough, Blaine supposed, but he couldn't hold a freaking candle to Kurt. This whole "threesome" thing was a lot less hot in real life than it had been in his fantasy.

"Let's move this party," Kurt said, steering each boy by the shoulder and shoving them playfully onto the bed. Kurt grabbed Gavroche's arms and pulled him until he was stretched across the end of the bed on his back. The brunette gave no resistance, letting Kurt move him into position like a doll. "Blaine, suck him," Kurt demanded, snapping his fingers.

Blaine did as he was told, with a slight pang of regret. The regret only intensified as he watched Kurt peel off his leather pants and put on a condom. Kurt stroked himself twice, then thumbed open Gavroche's mouth and sunk his cock into him.

Kurt moaned and rolled his eyes as Gavroche began to suck with enthusiasm. Blaine bobbed on Gavroche's cock, his eyes locked on Kurt's face, wishing he had the guts to tell his tall and charismatic boyfriend "no."

But then, something changed.

Kurt moaned again and thrust into Gavroche's mouth, and his eyes came back down from where they had been fixed on the ceiling. Kurt skipped right over Gavroche and looked right at Blaine. His blue eyes burned into Blaine's with passion and love. The look made Blaine's heart speed up.

He decided to experiment a little. He stroked himself to heighten his arousal, then swirled his tongue around Gavroche's cock and sucked hard, still watching Kurt intently. Gavroche whimpered around Kurt's cock and thrashed on the bed. Kurt bit his lip and threw back his head, thrusting all the way into Gavroche's throat with a satisfied grunt.

Blaine felt he was starting to understand the benefits to a threesome.

Gavroche thrashed on the bed again, gasping and pulling away from Kurt. "Too much," he whispered roughly with tears in his eyes.

"But that was so hot, baby," Kurt purred, "Do you have any idea how good you look when you choke? Just relax, shhh, relax." Kurt pressed Gavroche's shoulders down on to the bed and shot a knowing look at Blaine. Blaine got up on the bed and placed his hands on the boy's chest, following Kurt's lead.

Kurt sunk his cock into Gavroche's mouth again, stroking his cheek and making shushing noises. He thrust forward, curling his fingers around the boy's jaw and pressing with real force. Gavroche started to struggle again, and Blaine automatically grabbed his hands and pinned them to the bed, shifting to kneel on his thighs. Kurt beamed at Blaine, his face contorted in lust.

"Suck him some more, Blaine," Kurt panted. Blaine moved so that he could still hold Gavroche's hands, although the boy was struggling much less by that point. He sucked with genuine enthusiasm, moaning softly at how hard their toy had become.

"Finish him, baby," Kurt screamed, thrusting deeply into the relaxed throat. Blaine redoubled his efforts, and was rewarded by hot come spurting into his mouth. He swallowed every drop and leaned back on the bed to watch Kurt's orgasm.

Kurt thrust once, twice, thrice more, and came in Gavroche's throat, his eyes on Blaine's sated face the entire time. When he pulled out, Gavroche coughed and sputtered but didn't open his eyes, only half-conscious.

Kurt peered at Gavroche's face, fascinated by the change in color and the emptiness behind his half-open eyes. The boy was still breathing, ragged and slow. Kurt touched delicate fingertips to his throat, then wrapped both hands around the ravished neck. "Such a pretty boy. So talented," Kurt said quietly.

Blaine watched with wide eyes, his mind flashing back to the prior day's conversation.

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"_Well, there is one thing... Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to fuck someone to death. It would have to be one hell of a rush."_

_Blaine was shocked but did his best not to show it. Kurt had been so understanding about his fantasies. "Like... actually dead?" he squeaked._

"_Usually, yes, there are different versions of the fantasy, you know." Kurt replied calmly. "Sometimes I just want to hurt them. It depends. But never you, of course. Just like with your fantasy." Kurt fluttered his eyelashes at Blaine._

"_Right. Of course." Blaine replied weakly, desperately wanting to change the subject._

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"It's always good to try new things," Blaine whispered.

Kurt's eyes sparkled as he squeezed the life out of the boy on the bed.


	4. A Shining Star

**- PART THREE: A SHINING STAR -**

"Are you out of your mind?" Blaine wailed. Kurt was driving away from the motel, having taken the keys from Blaine when it became clear his boyfriend was in no state to drive. He wiped the smeared eyeliner from the corner of his eye with a brightly-colored scarf before replying.

"We talked about this, Blaine," Kurt said in a bored yet patient tone. "We agreed that it was important to try new things. We each shared a fantasy. You got yours, and I got mine. It's not cheating, you were right there with me."

"This is so not about cheating," Blaine said, balling his hands into fists. "This is about the dead body that we just hid under a motel room bed."

"That wasn't exactly the plan, Blaine." Kurt said sharply. He fluffed his hair in the rearview mirror, wishing they hadn't been in such a hurry to leave the motel room. He wanted a chance to primp properly. "Next time we can figure out something more elaborate."

"N...next time?" Blaine stuttered, holding his head in his hands. "Please say that there won't BE a next time, Kurt!"

"What makes you think you can judge me?" Kurt sneered. "The threesome was your idea. You're the one who held his arms down and swallowed his come." Kurt leered at Blaine and lifted an eyebrow. "You know, he wasn't wearing a condom. He's a part of you now. I don't know about you, but I find that incredibly hot."

Blaine shuddered, wracked with guilt. He said nothing as they sped back to Lima.

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Blaine held the door to the church for Kurt, and reluctantly followed him in. This felt so wrong, but Kurt had insisted. He had mentioned something about appreciating every opportunity for drama that life hands you.

Nine days of the most stressful days in Blaine's short life had passed since their trip to the nightclub. Blaine had watched the news obsessively until it was reported that a decomposing body had been discovered in a motel in Dayton. Blaine relaxed only a little as days went by with no mention of a suspect in the case.

When the body was identified and the funeral details were announced, Kurt had insisted they make the drive to Toledo to pay their respects. But that didn't explain the light shining in Kurt's eyes as they pulled into the parking lot, or the lightness in his step as they approached the church. Blaine was glad that everyone else already seemed to be inside, or Kurt would have stood out like a sore thumb.

The boys took a seat in the back row, trying their best not to make noise or attract attention. A parade of sobbing mourners took the podium to talk about Gavroche, and several sang songs. It was touching, and it all made Blaine want to throw up. He hoped that his emotions weren't written all over his face.

Kurt, meanwhile, seemed to be masking his guilt marvelously. His eyes were misty and he kept touching his hand to his heart and smiling sweetly at Blaine when one of the eulogies hit a particularly emotional note. He could be any other mourner, someone who knew the deceased but not well enough to be devastated by the loss.

Suddenly, Kurt got up. "I'll be right back, little boys' room," he whispered.

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Kurt held his breath as he caught up to the dark, bobbing head of hair headed out the back door. He reached out and tapped the girl on the shoulder.

"Hi, Harmony, right?" The girl spun around and blinked her wide eyes at Kurt.

"Do I know you?" She chirped, tilting her head the way a dog might.

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt said through fiercely smiling, gritted teeth. "Remember that name, you'll be hearing it again." He forced a laugh. "We met at the NYADA mixer, remember? That's how I know Gavroche. Knew, that is," he added, glancing aside sadly.

"Oh, you were there with the short girl with the big nose!" Harmony said, "Now I remember, you two looked so terrified after you saw our performance." She giggled and rolled her eyes.

"It was quite a number," Kurt replied, inwardly wincing at the memory of crying in the car with Rachel afterward, his self-confidence shattered.

"It's such a shame about Gavroche, you know he just got his acceptance letter?" Harmony prattled on. "It's positively tragic. I'm hoping to channel some of the drama of it all when I get into NYADA in two years. Did you and the girl with the nose apply too?"

A chill ran through Kurt. Harmony's irritating chatter had stirred something inside of him, and there was only one way to deal with the feelings now that they had come back to the forefront.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I wasn't listening. I was staring at the giant clump of mascara that's threatening to take over your face." Harmony's face fell and a hand flew up to her lashes.

"Come with me, hon, we'll get you all fixed up." Kurt took Harmony's arm and led her into the ladies' room, beaming angelically.

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"Kurt? Are you in here?" Blaine called into the men's room. Finding it empty, he sighed and turned to check the ladies' room. Old habits die hard, and Kurt could still be found in there from time to time.

"Kurt?" Blaine called out, opening the door with one hand and covering his eyes with the other.

"Just a minute, baby, I'm just taking care of something real quick," Kurt called out, punctuated by a splash.

Bewildered, Blaine pulled his hand away from his eyes, then stumbled backwards into the sink in shock at the scene before him, sliding to the ground.

Kurt leaned over the toilet in the handicapped stall, his hands holding a petite girl face-first in the bowl. Her body was limp and wet. Her dark hair was soaked and tangled around the rim of the toilet bowl.

Kurt peered at the girl, then lifted her head to examine her face. Water ran down her arms to form puddles on the floor. He prodded a dull eye with his finger, then cupped her nose and mouth and concentrated for a long minute. He smiled and set her down on the floor.

"Give me a hand, please, Blaine," he said, opening the small ventilation window near the ceiling. He propped the pane and turned to the corpse on the floor, crossing her arms tightly across her chest and heaving her up. "Blaine!"

Blaine stood on shaking legs and stumbled over to Kurt, taking hold of the dead girl's hips and holding her steady as Kurt lifted her by the shoulders and shoved her head out of the window. They passed her overhead until she was almost all the way out of the window, until she tilted and fell. Her showy high heels caught on the ledge and stuck there, a sickening crack sounding as she fell and dangled by her feet.

Kurt smacked and wiggled her feet, his face contorting in frustration. Finally, he undid the buckles and yanked the shoes off, freeing Harmony to fall into the bushes below the window. Kurt tossed the shoes out of the window after her.

"Bring the car around, Blaine, while I get this cleaned up," Kurt said. Blaine said nothing, trudging out of the bathroom as instructed. Kurt mopped up the water on the floor with paper towels, then wiped down every surface he might have touched, along with the smear of hair gel Blaine had left on the sink.

Kurt took a moment to check his hair, then flounced out of the bathroom.

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Kurt fingered the gold star in his pocket as he sat in the back pew, trying to contain his excitement. He had snatched the token from Harmony's neck right before slamming the lid on the trunk of Blaine's car.

Now that he had time to reflect, he recalled that the girl had sung lead for a competing school at Sectionals that year. Her arrogant words came flooding back to him.

_"Just think I'm only a sophomore, and I'm already this good. Next year's going to be a bloodbath!"_

She didn't know the half of it. Kurt smirked at the memory.

As the service ended, the boys stood to leave, Kurt taking Blaine's hand firmly and stroking it. The boy was positively trembling.

"Kurt! Blaine!" a voice rang out across the entryway, and a diminutive figure threw itself at Kurt. "I didn't know you were coming! I guess you knew Gavroche too, even though you weren't going to be his classmate like I was."

Kurt had an odd feeling that Rachel should already be dead, but he shook it off and beamed at his friend. "Rachel, I didn't know you were back from New York already. It's a shame we didn't know you were coming. You could have gotten a ride with us."

"It's just as well that you didn't," Blaine interrupted, "Kurt and I have plans. Remember, Kurt? Shouldn't we get to those plans? Like now?" He tugged Kurt towards the car.

"You know, we really should wait until dark to take care of that thing we need to take care of," Kurt growled into Blaine's ear, nipping his earlobe and grabbing his crotch. "I know just the way to kill some time."

**A/N: Good job making it this far! I'd like to take this opportunity to plug my other work-in-progress, He Made You Perfect. It's a non-smutty, tear jerker AU fic about Kurt and Blaine meeting at a Christian summer camp. Let's just say I have diverse interests, hmmm?**


	5. Neon and Chrome

**-PART FOUR: NEON AND CHROME-**

"This is too much, Kurt," Blaine said, holding Kurt's hand as they watched Harmony's body float away towards the center of Lake Erie. "We've been really lucky so far, but now we ought to get out of town."

"That sounds perfect," Kurt squealed, swinging Blaine's hands in his own. "A romantic vacation is just what we need."

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Blaine blinked in the bright sunlight as Kurt's SUV emerged from the Holland Tunnel. The city sprung up all around them, and even though it made him feel like a tourist Blaine couldn't help but crane his neck up to gawk at the tall buildings.

"It's so amazing," Blaine murmured. "There are taller buildings elsewhere in the city, you know," Kurt said, "NYADA's in Greenwich Village, so our turn should be coming up any minute." Kurt peered ahead through the traffic, looking for the road he needed.

"Our first trip to New York together wasn't supposed to be like this," Blaine whispered.

"I heard that," Kurt snapped. He completed the turn, then looked over at Blaine and pouted slightly. "Baby, you know I didn't want it to be this way, either," he purred. "It wasn't my fault that the NYADA admissions committee failed so miserably at their duties." Kurt's voice deepened and his nostrils flared with anger. "Maybe they don't even care. It's easy to just pick names out of a fishbowl or something and spend the rest of the day golfing. It doesn't even matter to them who gets hurt."

Blaine rubbed Kurt's knee, saying nothing.

Kurt tilted up his chin and smiled. "We have to set things right, and to do that I need more information. Besides, like you said, we had to get out of town for a bit," he chirped.

Blaine crossed his arms and sighed, shoving the glimpse of Kurt's dark mood out of his mind. "Whatever you need, sweetheart. Just promise me we'll make some time for us, okay? You said this would be a romantic getaway."

"Blaine, aren't you having fun yet? Cheer up, we're in New York City!"

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"Do you remember the way Pavarotti and I used to whistle to each other?" Kurt asked.

"Vaguely," Blaine replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Listen," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's arm. He whistled an elaborate tune that was reminiscent of the dearly departed bird. "Can you do that?" Kurt asked.

Blaine did his best imitation of Kurt's whistling. Kurt nodded in approval.

"That will work. You stay here and keep an eye out while I go to the admissions office. Act like you're reading this notice board. If anyone comes down the hallway, whistle just like that."

Blaine scrunched his forehead nervously. "I don't know if I can do this, Kurt."

Kurt kissed Blaine's fingers and looked up at him through his lashes. "The school is on a semester break, so no one's going to be here. You'll be fine." He pulled the hand in closer to his chest, kissing his way up Blaine's arm.

Blaine rolled his head back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the shiver running up his spine. "I guess you're right."

"Besides," Kurt said haughtily, arching an eyebrow and spinning on his heel. "You've done worse. What's a little breaking and entering now?"

Blaine ran his hands through his hair and leaned against the wall to steady himself. He opened his eyes again and pretended to read the notices on the wall.

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Kurt lay on his stomach atop the hotel bed, swinging his feet in the air and poring over the sheets of paper spread in front of him. He made notes on a pad of paper as he went, humming along to "With A Little Bit of Luck" as My Fair Lady played on the television in the background.

Blaine sat on the end of the bed, kicking his legs against the duvet. "Kurt, I'm getting hungry. Can't we go get some dinner? Maybe go out someplace nice? The greatest city in the world is right outside our door, full of incredible food. Did I mention I'm really hungry?"

"Blaine, you sound like Finn," Kurt huffed. "The movie is still going. Why don't you order something in?"

"You aren't paying any attention to the movie." Blaine said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't have to. I've seen it a million times. Everyone has. I'm working on something right now." Kurt said, flipping through the papers until he found the one he wanted.

"You've been working on that for hours," Blaine said. He crawled over the bed to Kurt and began to rub his shoulders. "You deserve a break, dear. Let me take you out tonight. Don't make me sing Rent to you," Blaine warned, cocking an eyebrow.

Kurt twisted around to face Blaine. "Anything but that," he teased, toying with the buttons on Blaine's shirt. "I did promise you romance, didn't I?"

"You did," Blaine said, grinning.

"I'm definitely in the mood for some romance." Kurt bit his lip. "We might still have to order take-out, though."

Kurt shoved the stack of papers to the side and grabbed Blaine's bow tie, tugging the ex-Warbler on top of him and pressing their lips together.

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"Oh my god, Blaine, your lips feel amazing," Kurt gasped into Blaine's ear. They were half-undressed and tangled in each others' arms in the back seat of Kurt's SUV.

A thrill ran through Blaine's body. The day had been magical, just himself and Kurt, with no mention of NYADA. They had walked through Times Square holding hands openly, gone to the top of the Empire State Building, and of course did some shopping.

Dinner was Italian food at a tiny restaurant where everything was made from scratch. They were currently parked a few blocks away, only having made it as far as their car before they couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

"Uhnnnf, Blaine," Kurt moaned, "Blaine... mmm... what time is it?"

Blaine looked up from where he had been running his teeth across Kurt's nipple. He fumbled around on the floorboards where each of their waistcoats had been discarded, until his fingers found a pocketwatch. "8:40. Why? Did you have plans, something better than what we were just doing?"

"Come on, we only have five minutes," Kurt said, buttoning his shirt back up and climbing into the driver's seat.

"Five minutes until what?" Blaine asked, rummaging around for his undershirt.

"Lauren Alexander's evening yoga class lets out at 8:30. It always takes her at least fifteen minutes to shower, and she'll walk right past us on her way back to her apartment."

"Lauren... who?" Blaine asked as he settled in the passenger seat.

"Number 18. I just want a chance to scope her out without her noticing. I was looking over her application and I couldn't find anything special about her, not one thing."

Anxiety struck Blaine's heart, but he knew better than to argue with his boyfriend.

"There she i-is!" Kurt said, pointing and bouncing in his seat. He started the car, making sure his headlights were switched off, and waited for the girl to pass before rolling forward out of the parking space.

After following Lauren for several blocks into a residential neighborhood, it became apparent that the girl was in her own little world, listening to her ipod and barely paying attention to her surroundings. "I think she's singing," Blaine said, cracking a window.

"I'd sooner buy

Defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye

I'm defying gravity

And you can't pull me down."

Kurt's lips pressed together into a thin line. His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.

Blaine failed to notice, transfixed by the girl's singing. "She's even better than Rachel Berry," he said.

The tires screeched as Kurt stomped on the accelerator.

"Kurt, please, stop!" Blaine shouted, tugging on Kurt's elbow.

Kurt did not zig, zag or stop, not until the moment the SUV struck the girl, screeching to a halt with her pinned underneath the back tires.

Kurt put the vehicle in park, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He hummed happily and skimmed his hands down his body, unbuttoning his shirt again. "Fortunately, I always keep the brakes in perfect condition," he murmured.

Blaine barely absorbed the words, his arms wrapped around his middle in an ineffectual attempt to contain the now-familiar sick feeling in his stomach.

"Blaine, gorgeous," Kurt said seductively, "Zipper. Now."

Blaine hurriedly undid his belt and zipper, pulling out his cock. He gasped as Kurt took all of him into his mouth at once and sucked him hungrily.

A soft tapping noise from underneath the car slowed and faded away over the course of the next ten minutes.


	6. Red Is My color

**A/N: I'm particularly pleased with this chapter! If you feel the same, please leave a review. As much as I appreciate the one review I have, take a look at it and tell me... does that really say it all? HMM?**

**- PART FIVE: RED IS MY COLOR -**

"Rachel, you're being paranoid. I'm sure it's just a coincidence. That Lauren girl was eighteen, right? She might not even be missing. Maybe she just was under too much pressure, freaked out and ran off. It doesn't mean that there's some madman on the loose hunting down NYADA applicants," Kurt concluded, waving his hands emphatically. He picked up his coffee and took another sip.

"I need a refill, I'll be right back," Blaine said, taking his empty cup and hurrying away from the conversation.

"I can't help it, I'm just so scared, Kurt." Rachel's face twisted up and she began to cry.

Kurt got up from his chair and wrapped Rachel in a soothing hug, resting his chin on her hair. "Shhh, don't be scared, sweetie. Who would want to hurt Rachel Berry?"

Blaine returned with his coffee and reclaimed his seat, scooting closer to Rachel and patting her shoulder.

"Kurt, is that a New York City subway token on your bracelet? It's so cool, it looks vintage." Rachel pulled Kurt's wrist up to her face and examined the trinket. It featured a cut-out "Y" shape in the center, and had been ringed with silver and attached to a short cord. "Where did you get it? I want one just like it."

Blaine shot Kurt a startled look.

"Oh, I just got it on the street, somewhere random." Kurt replied, extricating his hand and tucking it under the table, out of sight.

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Kurt fiddled with the radio until it picked up a Chicago-area Top 40 station. There was some static, but as they drew closer to the city the signal cleared up.

Kurt was antsy. He drummed his fingers on his knee and looked out the window. The sun would be down in an hour, and he would have preferred to already be in the city by now. Blaine had wanted to sleep in that morning, and then insisted on driving for some reason, so Kurt couldn't even speed to make up the lost time.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Kurt? Can we talk about something real quick?"

Kurt opened his eyes extra-wide and fluttered his eyelashes at Blaine before he responded. "Of course. If something's bothering you I want to know about it. What's on your mind?"

Blaine chewed his lip, taking in Kurt's face, then stared at the road ahead as he continued. "Why are we going to Chicago?"

"To check out the competition, of course," Kurt replied.

Blaine sighed. "To check out the competition, or, to, you know 'check-out' the competition?"

Kurt suppressed a giggle. "An honest and open relationship is important to me, Blaine. If you want the truth, then no, I had no intentions of leaving Pendleton or Canada alive."

Blaine clenched his hands around the steering wheel and breathed deeply. "What about Lauren in New York?"

Kurt patted Blaine's forearm and smirked. "Oh, honey, that was a genuine accident. If only she hadn't sung that particular song..."

"How long is this going to go on, Kurt?" Blaine asked, his voice rising in desperation. "Do you have a plan? When will it stop?"

"Don't worry about that," Kurt said with a wave of his hand. "I just wanted to take out these two, and then give NYADA a chance to reconsider. At this rate, the midwest will be woefully underrepresented in the entering class."

"That sounds... reasonable..." Blaine said.

"And if that doesn't work, we'll figure something else out," Kurt grinned, with a wave of his hand.

Blaine was silent for a long time. "Kurt, you know I love you. You're the love of my life. But this is really difficult for me. I don't know if I can..."

Kurt cut him off with a whine. "Blaine! You said you'd do anything to help me. I can't possibly do this without you. Think about it, you've kept me safe, helped me clean up... I would have been caught long ago without you. If you leave me now, it's hopeless."

"It's okay, It's okay! I'm not going anywhere" Blaine sighed. "What exit am I looking for, sweetie?"

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With Pendleton safely bound and gagged in the trunk, the boys continued up the interstate towards Milwaukee. They stopped and parked the car in front of an old duplex in a quiet, but somewhat run-down section of the city.

"I'm glad you're taking some precautions, finally," Blaine remarked as Kurt snapped on a latex glove.

Kurt arched an eyebrow in his direction. "Does it give you ideas, lover?"

"Um... what? You know what, never mind, I don't want to know," Blaine said following Kurt out of the car and around the back of the house.

After gaining entrance through a hatch to the basement, the boys quietly ascended the stairs and snatched Canada out of bed, gagging him with a pair of underwear snatched from the floor. They eventually managed to carry the struggling boy to the basement.

"Hang on a second, I have an idea," Kurt said. A Blaine held Canada down, Kurt ran up the stairs and reappeared with two belts, one red and one brown. He looped the brown belt around the boy's neck and pulled it snug, stepping lightly on his chest. Blaine pinned Canada's arms and legs down to the floor.

"What do you think, Blaine? Kurt panted, momentarily out of breath. "Do you like this one? Do you want us to have some fun with him first?"

"I'll defer to you on that one," Blaine said, raising his hands briefly before quickly putting them back down again when Canada kicked.

"No, no sweetie, it's your turn to pick. Do you like this one or should we skip it?" Kurt emphasized his sentences with a few sharp tugs on the belt to discourage Canada from struggling.

"He's... he's fine, but I'm just not feeling that right now. But I will if that's what you want," Blaine said.

"Save yourself for later, it's perfectly all right. We can skip this one." Kurt winked at Blaine saucily.

Canada stared up at Kurt with impossibly wide, pleading eyes, working around the gag. "Mmmph... ulgh... rrr you gon' let me go?"

Kurt's laughter rang out through the basement, as high and clear as a child's laugh. "Of course not! This is the last night of your life whether we fuck you or not. Anyway! Blaine, help me flip him over. And fix that gag." Canada screamed, muffled by the gag and Blaine's fist.

Kurt spent the next thirty minutes asking Canada yes-or-no questions about his NYADA audition, tears streaming down the boy's dark brown cheeks. When he could think of nothing else to ask, he calmly stood up, stepped on the boy's back and yanked the belt as hard as he could.

"Er... what was the other belt for, then?"

Kurt looped the belt around his waist and buckled it, twirling with his hands on his hips. "Red is so my color, don't you think?"

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"Kurt, honey... you're getting blood on your clothes," Blaine pleaded.

"Oh baby, won't you play me Le Jazz Hot maybe..." Kurt carved the bowie knife down the midline of Pendleton's nude, bound and gagged body. "...and don't ever let it end."

"Kurt, baby..." Blaine said, "I know you never wear knock-offs, but..." this earned a warning glare from Kurt, "...that sweater REALLY is the real deal, isn't it?"

"I tell you, friend, it's really something to hear..." Kurt swiped the blade upward to Pendleton's face, neatly slicing off her left ear. "I can't stay still when there's that rhythm near me..."

"What if you stop for a minute and take your sweater off, and I'll soak it?"

"Oh, so baby, Le Jazz Hot may be..." Kurt arced his arm overhead and sliced horizontally across Pendleton's abdomen, exposing coils of intestine to the night air. "...what's holding my soul together!"

"Kurt... you're going to regret this in the morning."

Kurt sighed and sat back on his heels. "I know. You're being so sweet, but I'm having too much fun to stop! I'm so fucking hard right now. I want you to get down here with me and feel this, too."

Blaine knelt in the freshly-dug pit next to Kurt and Pendleton. "But... that's a girl..."

"It's not the girl! It's the blood! The heat." Kurt lapped experimentally at the blade of the knife, smiling at the taste. Red crept up his teeth as he smiled at Blaine.

Blaine's eyes grew dark as he watched Kurt lick his lips. "Kurt, no... don't do that..."

Kurt's face fell. "What's the matter, sweetie?" he frowned.

"Remember what you said before..." Blaine reached out a hand to caress Kurt's waist. "...after I swallowed that guy's come?" Blaine's voice hitched, but he continued. "That he was a part of me... and that you thought it was hot..."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's shoulders and kissed him hard enough to bruise, mouth opening wide and tongue pressing aggressively to part Kurt's lips and teeth. He didn't let up on his attack until he had licked every trace of blood from Kurt's mouth.

Kurt pulled out of the kiss and caught his breath, placing a restraining hand on Blaine's chest. "I'm about five minutes away from jumping you, and I need you to help me make absolutely sure she won't be able to run away by that point." He pointed to Pendleton with his knife.

"Well... that's easy..." Blaine said, unbuckling his belt. He was wearing his second-favorite pair of jeans and he really didn't want them ruined, though his shirt was a lost cause after the kiss. "Slice behind each of her knees."


	7. Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note: This chapter is kind of a breather. Gotta move the plot along. I'll jump back into the violence and gore next time around. On the other hand, smut!**

**Second A/N: I know lots of you are enjoying this story, because it's getting favorited like woah. Please review and tell me what you think! Even if you don't necessarily want your good internet name associated with such filth! 0_0**

**Third A/N: On that note, if this or any of my other stories mysteriously disappears, please note that I crosspost everything everywhere. LJ, Scarves and Coffee, etc.**

**Enjoy!**

**- PART SIX: BEST LAID PLANS -**

"Right there. Mmm, Kurt, please, baby. There!" Blaine bit down on the pillow, his arms braced in front of him. He was on his hands and knees on Kurt's bed.

Kurt had Blaine by the hips and was pounding into him, taking him in the rough way that had become more common recently when they made love.

"Oh my god, ohmygod ohmygod," Blaine moaned as Kurt found his prostate again and again. "I love you. So much. Don't stop."

Kurt bit his lip and dug his fingers into Blaine's hips. He swiveled his own hips, altering the angle and giving himself fresh leverage.

Blaine let out a high-pitched whine. "I'm close, baby. Come with me."

Kurt ignored the words, keeping up his pace until Blaine fell over the edge, coming hard and loud, and sliding forward on the bed. Blaine tried to prop his weakened body back up again, seeing stars and trembling from the aftermath of his orgasm.

Kurt stroked Blaine's hair. "Ssshhh, relax and enjoy yourself, gorgeous. It's okay." He pulled out of Blaine and removed the condom from his still-hard cock.

"It's not okay," Blaine mumbled, nonetheless stretching out flat and shuddering as relaxation and pleasure washed over him. "It's your turn... you need a... turn... You haven't had enough turns lately... it's my fault, I'm selfish."

Kurt knelt over his boyfriend, stroking himself languidly, and kissed Blaine's forehead where sweat was beading around his hairline. "Don't be silly. Did you enjoy yourself, sexy?"

"Always with you, baby," Blaine said, "...but I mean it." He was slightly more aware now. "Anything you want, anything to make you feel this good."

Kurt grinned wickedly. "All right, if you insist," he said, flipping Blaine onto his back and tugging him around so that Blaine's head was dangling off the edge of the bed.

Blaine lay there with his eyes closed, still blissed out and growing aroused again at the way Kurt was eagerly taking him up on his offer. His eyes were still closed when a piece of fabric was tied around his eyes. A heavy strap was looped around his wrists and braced to the bedframe.

"Kurt, baby," Blaine moaned, his cock twitching to life at the awareness that he was blindfolded. "Good fucking idea."

"Ssshhh," Kurt said from across the room. Blaine felt fingers trail up his inner thigh, cupping his balls and snaking down to his abused entrance.

Blaine whined at the sudden and unexpected touch on the oversensitive areas.

The fingers moved next to the trails of come streaked across Blaine's stomach. The fingers left and Blaine heard wet, sucking noises. When Kurt's fingers returned, to tweak his nipples, they were cold and wet with saliva.

The feeling pushed Blaine past the point of desperation. "Kurt, please, take me, now! I want you to come too, I know it's been hard for you lately," Blaine whimpered.

Kurt moved silently around the bed. Blaine lost track of his movements until he felt fingers prying apart his jaw, and Kurt's fully hard cock thrusting into his mouth. Blaine gagged, trying to relax his throat, as Kurt slid home again and again, until he was fully encased in Blaine's throat.

Blaine could feel Kurt's hands on his face, stroking his chin, running through his hair, and fingering the fabric over his eyes as he thrusted fiercely. Blaine struggled to breathe and keep his throat relaxed, desperate to give Kurt what he needed.

After a few minutes, Kurt changed his angle and thrust more deeply into Blaine's throat, quickly reaching his orgasm and spurting come deep inside Blaine's throat. He pulled out and collapsed on the bed panting, releasing the strap from the bed frame before curling up to enjoy the aftermath of his orgasm.

Blaine wiped off his mouth, wriggled his wrists free and tugged the fabric off of his eyes. The first thing he laid eyes on was the beautiful sight of naked Kurt in the afterglow, face flushed and pupils wide. The next thing he noticed was the bright red belt that had been holding his hands. Finally, his eyes fell to the bright print of the Hermes scarf that had been covering his eyes.

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Kurt stepped off of the back steps and walked over to where Rachel was seated in a lawn chair, handing her a soda and pulling up a chair next to her. Blaine sat on the other side of Rachel, and Burt was manning the grill. Finn stood by the fence at the far side of the backyard, trying not to be too obvious while staring at Rachel. The rest of the guests at the Hudson-Hummel's Second Annual Fourth of July Party milled about, eating and chatting over the sound of the radio.

"It's just so awkward still. I don't even know why he's here. He's the one who broke up with me!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Rachel, sweetie, he lives here," Kurt replied.

"I know, but still. Anyway, he could go inside or something. Watch stupid football, I don't know. But he just has to stand there... looking so adorable..." Rachel's eyes started to mist up as she looked at Finn while he wasn't looking at her.

"So, Rachel," Kurt said, trying to change the subject, "I bet you're ooking forward to New York in the fall? There will be lots of better guys than Finn falling all over you. He's my brother and I love him, but you know what I mean."

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Oooh, yes! But not as many as before. Although I think the guys that died were both gay. I'm not sure how many straight guys NYADA even has..." She bit her lip and pondered the thought.

"There's a whole incredible city out there, Rachel," Kurt said through slightly gritted teeth, "...it's not all about NYADA, you know."

"I know, I'm just so excited to meet all of my classmates. Well, all the ones that are left. You know the police are saying now that they think it was just a coincidence? They say we're, and to stop spreading rumors about the so-called "NYADA assassin."

"I'm sure they know what they're doing," Kurt said, placing a comforting hand on Rachel's shoulder. "If the police say there's no killer on the loose, there's no killer on the loose!"

"I'm sure you're right, Kurt. It's such a shame you won't be going to NYADA with me in the fall. I just don't understand it. Do you ever think about why you didn't get in? What you did wrong at your audition, what the other kids had that you didn't have?"

Kurt gazed into his drink. "I try not to dwell on such things, Rachel. But there's nothing they have that I don't have." An edge crept into his voice as he finished the thought.

"Rachel, I need to get something from the kitchen," Blaine said, "...do you mind giving me a hand?" The two got up and walked into the house as Kurt brooded, the expression on his face showing that his mind was a thousand miles away.

"Rachel, I can't believe you," Blaine shouted, slamming the kitchen door behind them. "How can you be so insensitive, how dare you? Don't you know that's ALL he thinks about? What went wrong and what could have been?" Blaine was completely worked up by now, balling up his fists and pacing around the room. "Do you know how much time I've spent over the past month, the things I've done, the lengths I go to just to keep him from spiraling into depression?"

"Blaine, you're an artist too. You know that constructive criticism is the only way to improve one's craft. I'm trying to help Kurt by prompting him to examine his shortcomings. I know you love him very much, but you aren't doing him any favors by pretending that he's perfect and God's gift to NYADA. He isn't." Rachel spun on her heel and went out the door to the back yard.

Blaine felt the rage boiling over inside of him. Weeks of frustration, doubt and fear that had been carefully contained were creeping past the edge of his self-control. He stormed up to the kitchen door, not knowing what he would do if he caught up with Rachel.

The sight of Finn Hudson, hovering protectively over Rachel, stopped him in his tracks.

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"That's it, THAT'S IT! I'm not going to wait any longer. It's time to call." Kurt stalked around the bedroom, throwing his hands up angrily and biting the inside of his cheek. It had been five days since the barbecue, and seeing Rachel Berry again had brought his plan back to the forefront of his mind.

Blaine was sitting on Kurt's bed, head swiveling as he watched his boyfriend pace. "Just calm down, Kurt. I know it's hard, but if it's meant to be it'll happen," he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture and looked up at him with wide, dark eyes.

"I can't believe you just said that, Blaine," Kurt said, glaring. "If Rachel had taken that attitude after she completely screwed up her NYADA audition, there's no way she would have been accepted. I made that mistake before, I'm not going to make it again. Sometimes, believing in yourself just isn't enough. You have to make it happen, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"You're right. I'm sorry," Blaine said. "You have my full support. Let's make the call."

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"...well, I'm sorry that I can't say the same, Mr. Smith. Goodbye!" Kurt threw his phone at his bed, sitting down next to Blaine and covering his face with his hands.

Blaine rubbed circles into Kurt's back and waited for him to say something. He had waited while Kurt argued with the man from the NYADA admissions office for over an hour, dread roiling in his stomach.

"What on earth are they thinking?" Kurt wailed, "Their freshman class will only have seventeen students now, and only one from this region. You would think they'd at least want an even number or something!"

"Shhh, it'll be okay baby," Blaine murmured.

"It's not going to be okay!" Kurt shrieked, standing up, "Nothing will ever BE OKAY again!"

Before Blaine could react, Kurt bolted out the door and down the stairs, his phone abandoned on the bed.

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Blaine stayed at the Hummel residence long past dark, waiting for Kurt to come home. Burt said goodnight around ten, not commenting on the fact that Blaine was still there or that Kurt was not. At midnight, Blaine left the living room and climbed the stairs to Kurt's room, lying down on top of the covers and drifting into a fitful sleep full of nightmares.

Blaine was awakened in the middle of the night by a soft hand on his shoulder. Instantly alert, he eagerly rolled over and threw his arms around Kurt.

"Hey, precious," Kurt said, nuzzling into Blaine's neck. His looked exhausted, and there was a hard edge of anguish in his eyes.

"Hey yourself. Where have you been? I was so worried about you. Please don't do that to me again," Blaine begged. He couldn't get the images out of his head: Kurt crying and alone, Kurt harming himself, or someone else, Kurt getting arrested and thrown into a dark cell.

"Blaine, honey, look at me," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's chin and lifting it to make eye contact in the moonlight. "I was... very upset earlier. It was wrong of me to run off and try to deal with it by myself. You've been amazing and stayed by my side all along, and I promise I won't run out on you again."

Tears sprang to Blaine's eyes as Kurt's words let loose a flood of emotions he'd been tamping down all evening, along with all of the fear and worry that had been building up. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Kurt. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." Kurt smiled response and lay down next to Blaine, their foreheads touching.

"Now, what can we do to put a smile back on your face?" Blaine asked. He caressed Kurt's waist, soothingly at first, then with more emphasis, sliding his hand lower and lower.

"I'm glad you asked," Kurt said, springing up from the bed and turning on a lamp. "I made it to the bank before they closed and was able to close out my college fund and transfer it to my checking account. Let's take a trip!"

Blaine sat up and squinted in the sudden light, his arm in front of his face. "What? Are you sure? You should save that money, Kurt. You can still go to New York. You can still go to college." Even before graduation, Blaine had resisted mentioning any alternatives to Kurt's NYADA plans, but he didn't want Kurt to give up on his future entirely.

"Blaine, we don't have to spend it all. But I want to be spontaneous, do something crazy and fun. I want to see a new city with you. Why don't you get out your laptop and we'll look at plane tickets together?"

As Blaine was occupied with starting the laptop and pulling up travel websites, Kurt pulled a small notepad from where it had been taped underneath the drawer of his nightstand.


	8. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy

**A/N: Remember, everything is crossposted everywhere with the same username. Please enjoy for as long as our fun on ffnet lasts. If anyone has an invite code for the beta fic site, I'm interested!**

**- PART SEVEN: MERCY, MERCY, MERCY -**

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand as the plane touched down. He knew that takeoff and landing were the most dangerous times during a flight, and though he wasn't really afraid of flying it did make him a little nervous to feel the plane lurch as it slowed, and shudder as the wheels touched the ground.

Kurt stroked Blaine's knuckles tenderly as he looked out of the window.

"What do you want to see first?" Blaine asked. "Atlanta has an art museum that's supposed to be pretty good. And the aquarium is famous, they have whale sharks. There's always the World of Coca-Cola, too."

Kurt blinked and looked over to Blaine. "A museum just for Coke? That's..." the corner of Kurt's mouth started to curve into a grin, before he shook his head. "I actually have some plans in mind already. Let's check into the hotel first, then I'm going to take you out to dinner. After that we'll check out open mic night at this jazz club that's supposed to be a big part of the local music scene." Kurt said.

"That sounds perfect, baby," Blaine replied, leaning across the armrest to kiss Kurt. He sighed with contentment and pulled back to grin at his boyfriend. "Kurt, we'll have some downtime at the hotel before dinner, right?"

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Blaine involuntarily pressed his forehead into the mattress as a shiver ran up his spine. Kurt's fingers dug into his hips as he dove his tongue into Blaine, opening him up.

"Kurt..." Blaine gasped. "...that feels so good. You're incredible."

Kurt failed to respond as his mouth was otherwise occupied. Instead, he hitched Blaine's hips backward, freeing the tension in Blaine's body and giving Kurt additional leverage to plunge deeper into Blaine.

Blaine rested his head on his arms, gladly helpless in Kurt's hands. He closed his eyes and submitted to the pleasure, letting out small whimpers as Kurt moved inside of him.

After the sensations had gone on long enough to leave Blaine's brain completely melted, Kurt pulled away. "Mmm... more... please..." Blaine begged softly, too blissed out to insist or even to open his eyes.

Blaine heard the click of lubricant being opened, and he smiled. Slick fingers pressed to his entrance, and easily slid into the relaxed hole. Blaine shifted his hips upward to allow Kurt greater access, and to relieve the pressure on his throbbing erection.

After a few minutes, Kurt withdrew his fingers. Blaine whimpered at the loss, but tried to be patient, knowing Kurt wasn't done with him yet.

The sensation of a cold, hard object pressing into him made Blaine open his eyes and lift his head.

Kurt's hand pressed between his shoulder blades. "Shhh, baby, just let me. Shhh, close your eyes," Kurt cooed.

The object was metal, whatever it was, and it started to warm to match the temperature of Blaine's body as Kurt thrust it in and out of him. Blaine relaxed and submitted to his boyfriend's ministrations as the cold shock ebbed.

When Kurt finally withdrew the object and Blaine heard the tearing of a condom wrapper, he sleepily blinked open his eyes and flipped over to watch. His eyes popped open wide when he saw the object.

A handgun sat on the mattress next to his head, the barrel streaked with lube.

"Kurt, what the hell?" Blaine sputtered. His heart pounded in his chest.

"It's all right, baby, the safety was on," Kurt said, stroking Blaine's thigh. "I would never take a risk with you. Besides, that was so hot, the way you just took it." Kurt growled the words through gritted teeth, lust painted across his face. He stroked his cock, staring hungrily at Blaine.

Blaine, seeing the want in Kurt's eyes, lay back and lifted his legs to drape across Kurt's shoulders.

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Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine's waist protectively as they walked into the nightclub, Kurt holding the swinging door out of the way. He pressed a kiss to Blaine's forehead and led him to an empty table close to the stage after signing them both up to perform at the open mic and passing his iPod to the host.

The sound system was playing soft jazz in the background. A waitress appeared and took their drink orders.

Kurt reached across the table and took Blaine's hand. He lifted Blaine's hand to his lips and peppered it with soft kisses, finishing with a kiss to the tip of each finger.

"You're affectionate tonight," Blaine said, blushing.

"It's because I'm so in love with you. You make me very happy, Blaine," Kurt cooed. Blaine leaned forward over the table and their lips met again softly.

A spotlight appeared on stage and the surrounding club darkened. The bartender called out Blaine's name, and he stood and walked to the stage. His hazel eyes sparkled as they locked onto Kurt and he began to sing.

"If you were falling, then I would catch you.

You need a light, I'd find a match.

Cause I love the way you say good morning.

And you take me the way I am."

After he concluded the song, Blaine ignored the dreamy looks from nearly every woman in the audience, striding over to their table and reaching out to caress Kurt's cheek.

"That song says it all for me, beautiful. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm always there..." Blaine said.

Kurt cut him off. "It's my turn." He set down his glass and hopped up on the stage, taking the microphone.

"Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight

It must have been something you said

I just died in your arms tonight"

After finishing the song, Kurt returned to the table and reclaimed his chair.

"That was, um, an interesting choice..." Blaine said.

Kurt giggled and peeked at his boyfriend. "I just couldn't help myself," he snickered.

Blaine ducked his chin briefly and took Kurt's hand, looking up at his boyfriend through his long lashes. "I'm glad you're having fun tonight. It's been so hard watching you suffer these past weeks. I feel like we've turned a corner, together. I'm really looking forward to our future."

Kurt's face stiffened and he tugged his hand back slightly, fingers flattening against the table. Their drinks arrived and he took a quick gulp of his cosmo. "Let's just watch the next singer," Kurt said flatly.

A young woman stepped into the light. She grabbed the microphone and began to sway as the sound system switched to her backing track.

She wore a green velvet jacket with a matching flower on the lapel, an open-necked button-down shirt, large hoop earrings and bangles glinting gold in the stage lights. Her hair was in long dreadlocks, and her light brown skin was smooth and clear.

A hush swept over the crowd as she began to sing a jazz standard. She moved into the heart of the song, belting out the altered lyrics.

"I said she got the kind of lovin',

Kissin' and a-huggin',

Sure is somethin',

Glad that I'm her woman and I know

That she knocks me off my feet,

Have mercy on me."

"She's amazing," Blaine whispered. "She's so young, too. So much potential. She can't be more than..." Blaine looked over at Kurt, really seeing the expression in his eyes for the first time that evening.

He knew that there had been something different about Kurt since they had booked the flight to Atlanta. The heaviness, the brooding that had been there was gone. The sex at the hotel that afternoon had been amazing. Blaine had thought that it was because Kurt was finally letting go of NYADA after they had refused to reconsider his application.

He had been wrong. "...she's eighteen. Isn't she, Kurt? Isn't she?" Blaine hissed. "What's her name, Kurt?"

"Josephine Perkins," Kurt replied, applauding politely as the song ended. "After the show, she eats dinner down the street at the restaurant where her friend works, then walks home. It's kind of a rough neighborhood, it's a surprise nothing has ever happened to her before."

Blaine excused himself to the men's room and promptly threw up in the toilet.

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Kurt and Blaine walked down the sidewalk, holding hands.

"So, is there a plan, or are we winging it?" Blaine said softly.

"Just follow my lead," Kurt whispered, quickening his pace as Josephine turned a corner.

The followed her into the entryway of a run-down apartment building, catching up with her as she was halfway up the staircase.

"Josephine," Kurt said in a low tone. "A moment, if I may?"

The woman spun around, eyes darting between the two boys. "Do I know you?" she asked, cautiously.

"My name is Kurt Hummel. You took something that's mine. And I'm going to get it back," Kurt said evenly.

"I've never even met you," Josephine said, her voice rising in panic. She backed up the stairs, stumbling and falling, her wide brown eyes still locked on Kurt's. "But, whatever it is, you can have it. It'll be okay!"

Kurt suddenly looked as though he were a million miles away. "Shut up," he muttered. "Shut up. SHUT UP." His eyes pressed shut and snapped back open, the distance replaced by rage.

Kurt darted forward and ripped the velvet flower from her jacket, before pulling a very familiar gun from his waistband and firing a single shot into Josephine's left shoulder.

Josephine wailed and clutched her shoulder, blood spilling between her fingers.

"What did I just tell you about shutting up?" Kurt spat out.

"Kurt, someone's going to call the police," Blaine fretted, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

Josephine lurched to her feet and started to scramble up the stairs, smearing a trail of blood up the banister. Kurt fired a shot into the back of her left knee. She crumpled face-down on the stairs, sobbing hard.

"We have time. This is a bad part of town. The average emergency response time here is eleven minutes," Kurt replied, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated his victim, who was currently moaning and curling up in a fetal position.

Blaine spun around, raking his fingers through his hair. He started to say something, then bit his tongue and watched as the scene continued to unfold.

"A gun is somewhat impersonal," Kurt mused, "...but it helps if you do it like this." Kurt leveled the gun and fired again, causing Josephine's jaw to splatter onto the steps. "It gives you that, connection, you know?" Kurt frowned and flicked a fragment of bone off of his sleeve.

"It's a shame we're going to have to get rid of this right away, otherwise we could have a repeat of this afternoon," Kurt said, turning to Blaine and pushing his lips into a mock-pout. He snaked a hand down to grope Blaine's crotch, squirming against him.

"Let's focus on the task at hand," Blaine said, wrapping his hand Kurt's and pointing it and the gun back towards Josephine, who was gurgling softly.

As Blaine's fingertips brushed against the barrel of the gun, he thought back to earlier that day at the hotel, and the touch of the cold steel in a very different place. He looked at Kurt and licked his lips. His cock twitched in his pants.

"What if I tried?" Blaine asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

Kurt's eyes lit up. "Be my guest!" he chirped, dancing around Blaine with a hand trailing his shoulder. He stood behind the shorter boy and wrapped his arms around him, helping Blaine hold the gun steady in shaking hands. "Remember the recoil, baby," Kurt said.

Blaine pulled the trigger. A shot rang out, striking Josephine in the foot.

"Good for a first try," Kurt cooed, rubbing Blaine's shoulders. "Do it again, baby. That was so fucking sexy," he said, gripping Blaine's bicep.

Blaine pressed his eyes shut and tried to tune out the pathetic sounds coming from the being that was currently bleeding out on the staircase before him. Instead, he focused on Kurt's excited hands wrapped around him. His mind flashed back to the way those same hands had wrapped around his ankles earlier that day, as Kurt had fucked him with more enthusiasm than he'd had in weeks.

Josephine appeared to regain a bit of consciousness, and started to wail again.

Blaine kicked Josephine over onto her back, then fired a shot directly into her chest. A fine mist of blood hit Blaine's face and he blinked, then wiped his face slowly.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked.

Blaine grabbed Kurt around the waist and kissed him hungrily, before whispering into his ear. "I think I'm topping tonight."


	9. Crescendo

**- PART EIGHT: CRESCENDO -**

_I'm in too deep, _Blaine thought.

_Let's face it, that has been the case all along. It's Kurt. It's always been Kurt._

Blaine sat at the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. A faint glow streamed into the room through a slight gap in the motel room curtains.

Kurt slept peacefully in the bed next to him. For a while, Blaine searched the lines of his face, highlighted by the play of dim light and shadow.

Kurt looked so innocent. Untroubled, pure and gentle.

Blaine wondered what he looked like when he slept, now.

Sobs began to echo through Blaine's body again, unbidden and unwanted. He had been wrestling with his thoughts the entire night, sleeping little until the daylight began to creep into the room. At that point, he'd given up on rest.

However, he still had to control his emotions if he was to avoid waking Kurt. Try not to sob, to mourn, to scream, to rage.

He couldn't help but compare the moment to losing his virginity. It was a point in his life, a moment in time, when everything changed. When he, himself, changed. But at the same time, he felt like he ought to be more different than he actually was.

_Murderer._

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Kurt cheerily sang along with the radio as he drove, occasionally drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Blaine leaned his head against the window and let his eyes drift closed, trying to get a bit of rest. He had been too tired to take the wheel of their rental car, and besides, Kurt was the one making up their itinerary.

"Come on, vogue

Let your body groove to the music, hey, hey, hey"

Kurt accompanied the song with the hand motions, briefly driving with his knees.

Blaine lifted his head and glared at Kurt. "Drive now, dance later," he huffed.

"Oh, shush. It's fine. Help me watch for the ramp to I-85?"

Blaine grumped in his seat, but when he saw Kurt's eyes sparkle with excitement his mood softened. "So, Florida, huh?"

"Yeah! I've always wanted to visit! Have you ever been? It's lucky we could get some cash back on those return flights," Kurt chirped.

"It never really interested me," Blaine replied, sleepily adjusting his sunglasses to better block the late morning sun. He was beyond trying to persuade Kurt to change their plans, and the minute Kurt woke up that morning with a desire to road-trip through the South, Blaine knew they would wind up in that rental car.

"Why not, baby?" Kurt asked.

"Humidity."

The song on the radio changed, causing a smile to form on Blaine's lips. He sat up a bit, buoyed by the familiar, cheesy tune.

When Kurt moved his hand to switch the station, Blaine caught it midway. "Don't," he said.

"You must be joking," Kurt responded with a lifted eyebrow. "This song? Really, Blaine?"

"Here is a little song I wrote,

You might want to sing it note for note.

Don't worry, be happy."

Kurt rolled his eyes as Blaine launched into the chorus with enthusiasm. "You know I love you, Blaine. A lot. For better or for worse, and all of that. But sometimes I wonder about you."

Blaine only grinned in response, alternately whistling and singing the "oooooh" parts of the song with a newly brightened mood.

When the song faded away, Kurt reached again to change the station. "But the song's over..." Blaine protested. "I don't care, this station is tainted now," Kurt snarked.

As he recognized the song playing on the next station, Kurt's face broke into a grin and he began to sing along, giggling as he modified the lyrics.

"I just died in your arms tonight, must have been something you said. I just died in your arms tonight, couldn't walk away. Because we cut your KNEEEEEES."

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Kurt pulled up behind a short, gray cinderblock building and put the car in park. The fading sunlight reflected off of the windows and illuminated the interior of the car. They sat for a while, saying nothing, as Kurt watched the building intently.

"To think," Blaine said, finally breaking the silence, "All those nights, lying in bed, dreaming of the day I'd visit Tallahassee. I can't even believe it, we're finally here. At this... warehouse? Office building? DMV?"

"Shhh, it could happen any minute," Kurt said, waving Blaine's remarks away without lifting his eyes from the back of the building.

"All rightie then," Blaine said, getting comfortable in his seat.

After twenty more minutes, Kurt perked up. The back door to the building swung open, and a pair of arms stuck a full trashcan outside, propping open the door.

"Five... four.. three... two... one... let's go!" Kurt said, unbuckling his seat belt and hopping out of the car. Blaine, startled from his reverie, rushed to follow him. He caught up and took Kurt's hand halfway across the parking lot, and together they walked swiftly into the building.

Kurt led them down a carpeted hallway, the generic color scheme and lack of adornment still giving no clue as to the building's purpose. He pulled Blaine into an empty room and carefully shut the door, moments before footsteps could be heard softly padding down the hall.

A vacuum roared to life, roamed around the halls, then fell silent again. After a few more minutes of footsteps and shuffling, the back door banged shut and Kurt let out a heavy breath. He opened the door and strode casually out into the hallway again.

Blaine followed, staring curiously at the back of Kurt's perfectly coiffed head. "All right, Sherlock, do I really want to know?" he asked.

"What's that, baby?" Kurt cooed absently.

"How you know so much about the janitorial routine of this... porn studio? Sure, let's say porn studio... in Tallahassee of all places, to sneak in flawlessly like we just did."

Kurt spun around and blinked. "Oh, I was just going to break a window. But I saw the janitor's truck and knew we had to wait for them to leave." Kurt turned and kept walking, intent on his unspoken destination.

Blaine sputtered and stood stock-still. "But, we only barely made it into that room. We just assumed that the janitor wouldn't come back after taking the trash out. We... KURT!" Blaine shouted down the hall at Kurt's retreating form.

Kurt twisted again to look at Blaine. "Shhh! Do you want her to hear you?"

"Her?" Blaine replied, a sickened expression forming on his features. "Oh, right. That." He trotted to catch up.

Kurt peered through a square window near the top of a sturdy door at the end of the hallway. Blaine reached up on tiptoes to look as well.

A brightly-lit, windowless room with a smooth, shining wooden floor stretched out before them. Mirrors lined the far wall, with an attached ballet barre. The remaining walls were stark white, and fluorescent bulbs in unadorned fixtures hung from the ceiling.

A young woman twirled slowly into view, to music that seeped faintly around the edges of the door. She wore a black leotard, her legs and feet bare, with a white chiffon wrap skirt around her waist. Her long, light brown hair was loose, and fanned out around her. As the music heightened, she lifted her arms and spun faster and faster, then collapsed purposefully with legs folded under her and palms splayed out on the floor.

She popped up effortlessly and flipped around into a series of sideways, twisting leaps in time to the quick beat of the music, which Blaine now recognized as "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson.

The girl spun in place with head stretched back and arms out, slowly lifting her head and slowing as the song wound down. Her eyes sparked in confusion when they met Kurt's cool gaze.

Kurt opened the door and stepped inside, Blaine following silently.

"Don't let me interrupt," Kurt said. "Isabella, right?"

"That's right," she said, with a hint of caution in her voice "How do you know my name?"

"I'm Kurt Hummel, and this is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson," he said, gesturing to Blaine, who had backed himself into the corner of the room. "I came to see you dance."

"Last names, Kurt, really?" Blaine whispered miserably, drowned out by the music.

Isabella locked eyes with Kurt, seeing something in them that terrified her. Kurt began to casually roll up his sleeves.

"Why don't you take it from the top, Isabella? Blaine, do you mind getting the music?" Kurt said, kneeling to unlace his boots.

Blaine obediently moved to the sound system and fiddled with the docked ipod until "Man in the Mirror" started again.

Isabella stood, trembling and staring openly at a now-barefooted Kurt. Eight bars of the music passed with neither of them moving a muscle.

"I came to see you dance, Isabella," Kurt repeated steadily. "Blaine, do you mind?" Blaine restarted the music, shooting a cautionary look at the shaking girl.

The opening notes chimed again through the studio, and Kurt nodded cooly in time. Isabella backed away from his stare, knocking against the mirror and sliding to the floor. She began to cry silently.

"I'll tell you what, Isabella," Kurt said, with hard emphasis on the third syllable of the name, "I'll start the music a third time, just for you. But no more do-overs. Blaine?"

As the music restarted, Isabella clambered to her feet and stood with her head down and one foot to the side. This time, as the first beats echoed out across the floor, she lifted her head and shrugged her shoulders, swinging her arms through their range of motion before twisting into a series of twirls with one leg held high.

She was beautiful, a picture of ease and grace. The choreography expressed the sweet optimism of the lyrics perfectly, and her long limbs and hair complemented the smooth and steady flow of the song. Her sniffling and strangled sobs could barely be heard over the backing choir that started up on the track.

Isabella lifted her hands above her head as she began the dramatic twirl sequence she had been doing when Blaine and Kurt watched the first time through the window. Her arms were not quite as strong, her hands not lifted quite a high as before.

Blaine sat and watched with his back to the mirror, tears streaming down his face. He longed to be able to sing something, anything else, to drown out the lyrics that echoed through his skull.

"If you wanna make the world

A better place,

Take a look at yourself

And then make that change."

Blaine tapped his head against the mirror softly, wishing he could knock out the guilt and self-loathing that washed over him like a wave, one that had been building over the previous months and crested over his head the night before.

Blaine considered himself irredeemable. Unable to change himself or the world except for the worse. Helping Kurt to snuff out beautiful, promising points of light in the universe, one after another.

He had a feeling that Kurt would not appreciate the irony of the musical choice, and he was proven right as Kurt began to move quietly towards the twirling girl. A hand slid under his vest to his pants pocket and withdrew a metal wrench.

Kurt stretched out a leg and began to follow Isabella in her twirls, an act which did not go unnoticed by the girl. She deviated from her choreography, taking larger leaps in an attempt to put more distance between herself and Kurt.

Without having to be told, Blaine walked to the door and stood there, arms folded as he watched his boyfriend do his work. Isabella faltered briefly as she caught Blaine's eye, but was able to carry on with her routine.

She moved into her spiral sequence, arms flung back and hair flying. Kurt stilled his dance to watch her again, twisting to a halt in fourth position.

Kurt scrutinized Isabella's spin, flipping the wrench lightly in his hand. Finally, he gripped the wrench in both hands, squared his hips, and struck the oblivious girl's head like it was a baseball.

Blood arced across the golden wood and misted the mirror. Isabella spun into the floor like a wounded bird, cradling her head.

Kurt stepped towards her and held out his left hand. "Get up." He growled. "Keep dancing."

Isabella sobbed and shrunk away from his reach, dripping onto the floor as she went.

"What's wrong with you?" Kurt hissed, "Is dancing your dream? Is it what you were born to do?" He punctuated his words with a crack of the wrench across her cheekbone. She collapsed onto her chest and spat blood onto the floor. Kurt reached down and tore the wrap skirt from around her waist, balling it up in his fist as he shouted at her.

"Do you really think you deserve this? Deserve to make art? If you did, you wouldn't let anything stop you." Kurt stalked away from the girl, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Blaine," he hissed through his teeth, "Change the music. She clearly isn't going to dance anymore."

Blaine pressed a button on the iPod, causing a faster, darker song to ring out. Kurt narrowed his eyes and smiled maliciously, turning again to Isabella and singing along softly.

"Annie are you OK,

Say, Annie are you OK,

Are you OK Annie?"

The bright lights glinted in Kurt's eyes as he swung again and again, punctuating the music. Kurt began to twist and flip in time to the music between blows, darkly mimicking Isabella's choreography.

He didn't slow his work until rivulets of blood stained the wood and the girl was perfectly still.

"You've been hit by,

You've been hit by,

A smooth criminal."


	10. Where's My Prize?

* * * PART NINE - WHERE'S MY PRIZE? * * *

"She really had no appreciation for her instrument. Smoking, can you believe it? She had no right to treat her body in such an appalling fashion." As he mused, Kurt fingered the sapphire-colored stone on a slightly scuffed class ring.

They had stopped overnight in Tampa, with a quick stop at a pool hall to abduct and bludgeon a blonde named Kourtney. Her body was wrapped in a tarp in the trunk, minus a ring and plus a bloody length of pipe that had served as an improvised murder weapon.

Blaine shrugged, focusing on the road. He had asked for a turn driving, hoping for a distraction. The steady, dull drive through Alligator Alley was almost enough stimulation to keep Blaine from thinking about the last, brutal moments of Josephine's life

Kurt, on the other hand, was glad to have the freedom to sing and car-dance without warning looks from his overprotective boyfriend. After the "Don't Worry, Be Happy" debacle, Kurt had made point of stopping to pick up an iPod dock for the rental car, and was singing at the top of his lungs.

"What a wonder is a gun!

What a versatile invention!

First of all, when you've a gun

Everybody pays attention.

When you think what must be done,

Think of all that it can dooooooo!"

"Sing with me!" he barked between verses.

"I would, sweetheart, but I'm afraid I don't know this one," Blaine responded.

"In the Name of Sondheim... really? Assassins? The cult off-broadway show and subsequent Tony-winning revival starring the amazing Neil Patrick Harris? Nothing?"

Blaine blinked his long lashes at Kurt briefly, before returning his eyes to the road.

"We have to remedy that right this minute," Kurt said, flipping through his iPod to find his Broadway playlists. "You need to go south at the exit, sweetie," he added before the rich, perky notes of the first track began.

"Hey, pal- feelin' blue?

Don't know what to do?

Hey, pal,

I mean you,

yeah! C'mere and kill a president"

Blaine looked askance at the iPod, as if staring at the device could somehow begin to explain the oddness resounding throughout the car. "By creepy musical standards, this is right up there with Rocky Horror," he quipped, drawing a smile from Kurt.

Blaine exited the interstate and turned onto a long stretch of rural road, half-listening to the musical while he drove and letting his mind wander. That turned out to be a mistake.

"_Baby, yeah, you got that soulful feel,_

_Yeah, it's all right, mercy, mercy."_

_Sweat beaded along the young woman's hairline under the bright lights of the stage. She sucked in a deep breath to power out the final notes of the song, brushing her hand back through her dreadlocks and closing her eyes._

_No one else in the club made a sound. The audience and the staff alike were transfixed by the raw talent in front of them. Josephine finished the song, smiling at the applause and tossing back her hair before bowing deeply and walking off the stage._

"I AM A TERRIFYING AND IMPOSING FIGURE!" Kurt shouted.

Blaine blinked moisture out of his eyes and sucked in a stuttering breath. He turned to his boyfriend. "Of course you are, sweetie," he cooed, stroking Kurt's cheek and brushing a thumb across his lip. He had always thought Kurt's "bitchface" was sexy as hell, and Blaine made a point to provoke it as often as he could.

"Boo." Kurt pouted, turning off the iPod. "Take the dirt road up here on the left, and drive all the way down to the end."

"It's a little swampy, what if we get stuck?" Blaine asked

"Just park before we're in danger of that, and we'll carry her the rest of the way," Kurt replied, bouncing slightly in his seat.

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Blaine walked down the glass-domed path, pretending to read the little cards that bore the scientific names of plants along with their country of origin. He stopped when he reached the one that read "Amorphophallus Titanum – Sumatra."

The flower was beautiful, towering over Blaine's head and spreading out in rich crimson and yellow, but the scent of death was overpowering. He covered his nose and backed away, settling casually onto the bench across the path. He turned to the young man seated there, sketching the plant.

"It's kind of amazing, how something could evolve like that, huh?" "Yeah, it's sometimes called the 'corpse flower' because of the smell. But the insects think it's rotting meat, and pollinate the flower."

"It's also somewhat..." Blaine cleared his throat and waggled his eyebrows, "...suggestive."

The man blushed slightly, bit his lip and nodded, continuing his sketch.

"Are you an art student?" Blaine asked, looking at the sketchbook.

"Well, drawing is my first love, but I'm going to NYADA in the fall for performance arts."

"New York, huh? Congratulations, that's amazing. I'm Blaine, by the way." Blaine fluttered his eyelashes, feeling totally awkward but trying not to show it.

"My name's Gavin," the man said, smiling with dazzling white teeth and pushing a wayward lock of hair behind his ear. "You know, I'm about done with this sketch. Would you like to get some lunch maybe?"

"Actually, I have a better idea. Do you like to fish?"

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The boat rocked gently under their feet, alternately shifting to pull against the anchor and slacking as it slid over the waves. The late afternoon sun was not yet turning red to slip below the horizon, but was casting long shadows across the deck and painting the three boys in golden light.

Blaine slid the loose button-up off of Kurt's torso, worshiping the curves and sinews of his shoulders. "How did you know I'd be his type?" he whispered in Kurt's ear. "I didn't," Kurt replied, "I just heard that he was a bigger slut than Sebastian."

Blaine smirked, ignoring the slight as he breathed in the Tahitian vanilla scent of his lover's skin, mixed with salt of sea and sweat, with a hint of sunscreen. He swooned, drunk with the sheer wanting of Kurt, resisting for a delicious few more seconds before kissing him deeply. Their erections brushed together, sending a ripple of tension straight up Blaine's spine, and he responded by sucking Kurt's tongue into his mouth. Kurt keened in pleasure and tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair, giving his mouth over completely to his boyfriend.

"Um... guys," Gavin said, "should I..." he took a few tentative steps forward, placing a hand on Blaine's arm.

Kurt grunted and knocked the man's hand off of Blaine's shoulder. "Just watch," he said after wrenching his tongue back from Blaine, who moved on to his ear without missing a beat. "Watch us first, then we'll take care of you."

Gavin grinned broadly and settled back onto the padded top of the deck box, ogling the other two openly. After a few moments, he unzipped his shorts and began to stroke himself.

Kurt grinned wickedly, pleased with the man's obedience, and turned his full attention to Blaine. He nudged behind Blaine's knee, throwing him off balance, then brought them both down to the deck.

Kurt wedged his knee between Blaine's thighs and held it firm, moving only his mouth to suck hard on Blaine's collarbone. Blaine keened beneath him and thrust quickly up against Kurt's leg, breathing in ragged gasps. Kurt flicked his hips sharply against Blaine, their bodies sliding freely together through the thin material of their swim trunks. Blaine's gasps rose into screams. Kurt chose that moment to lift his eyes to Gavin, who was fisting himself hard. "Slow down," he mouthed with a stern look.

Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, propping himself up above the brunette to abruptly remove the source of friction. Blaine's screams died away into whimpers, and once he regained his senses, he cracked an eye open to see what was in store next.

Kurt inched down Blaine's body, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He breathed hot air onto Blaine's erection, straining through the damp fabric. "Please, Kurt," Blaine begged, "touch me, however you want, I just need to feel you." He reached out to stroke Kurt's hair at the back of his head, then tugged lightly in the direction of his crotch.

Kurt batted Blaine's hand away, knocking it back down to the deck and holding his wrist in place pointedly. He nuzzled across Blaine's swim trunks, nipping at the drawstring and untying it slowly with his teeth. Blaine whimpered as he watched, battling with himself to keep his hands still. Kurt rewarded his discipline by pulling the trunks down and off of Blaine's feet, then removing his own swimsuit.

Gavin let out a groan at the sight of the now fully naked couple, and both boys looked up with identical satisfied looks before looking back at each other.

"So hot, baby," Blaine purred, "being watched." "I know you love it. We'd better put on a good show, huh?" Kurt winked before crawling around and bracing his knees on either side of Blaine's head.

Blaine squeaked happily before engulfing Kurt's cock in his mouth, desperate and starved for the feeling of blood-hot, velvety skin against his lips and tongue. He lifted his head off of the deck in eagerness, reaching to take as much of Kurt's full length as he possibly could. Kurt gasped and rested his forehead against Blaine's thigh for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden sensations, before managing to remember his purpose and taking Blaine's cock into is own mouth.

Gavin gasped in pleasure. He was slumped on the deck box, stroking his flushed and leaking cock, panting with open and damp lips that he licked repeatedly.

Blaine would not be able to hold out much longer, driven insane by the taste of his lover and the delight of being watched in the act. He was desperate to taste Kurt's come, and to feel Kurt's throat constrict around him as he came, but Kurt needed to catch up to him a bit.

"Baby," Blaine purred as he moved to suck on Kurt's balls, "just think about what we're going to do with him. Doesn't that make you hot?"

Kurt moaned and dove back onto Blaine's cock, taking him into his throat. Kurt dug his fingernails into Blaine's hips, hard enough to hurt, but Blaine had no inclination to complain. Instead, he sucked Kurt's cock with every bit of enthusiasm he , causing a long shudder to run through his boyfriend's body. As hot come spurted into Blaine's mouth again and again, he moaned and bucked into Kurt's throat, muffling the sounds of Kurt's orgasm as Blaine reached his own.

The boys untangled themselves from each other, panting, and Blaine crawled over for a slow kiss, reaching his tongue into Kurt's mouth to mingle the taste of them together. Finally, their attention was drawn by a desperate whimper.

Kurt drew to his feet and closed the distance between himself and Gavin, looking at Blaine and flicking his eyes to the side of the boat. Blaine moved to the railing and slid behind Gavin, running his hands up the man's ribs.

Kurt tangled his fingers in Gavin's hair and kissed him aggressively, giving him a taste of Kurt and Blaine together. Then he pulled away and spun the man around, pressing him up against Blaine. Gavin grabbed Blaine's shoulders and began to thrust eagerly against his thigh. Blaine bent to suck at Gavin's neck, watching Kurt carefully.

Kurt pulled Gavin's red floral board shorts down to the deck, then wet two fingers in his mouth and rubbed them along the crack of Gavin's ass. Gavin moaned against Blaine's skin and bucked harder, wriggling forward against Blaine and back against Kurt. "Beg me for it," Kurt whispered, eyes gleaming green in the golden light.

"Ohhh, yes, give it to me," Gavin groaned.

"Everything?" Kurt whispered, flicking his tongue against Gavin's ear and teasing his fingers against his hole.

"Yes, please... give me everything."

Kurt grinned wickedly and thrust two fingers into him, causing Gavin to wail into Blaine's shoulder. "That's... that's a lot..." he stuttered, clenching around Kurt's fingers.

"You're going to feel a lot more than that before I'm done with you," Kurt purred into his ear. Gavin shivered in delight and pressed back against Kurt's fingers, holding onto Blaine's back for dear life as the searching touch found his prostate.

"Close!" Gavin gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. Blaine glanced down at Gavin, then up at his boyfriend, just in time to see a flash of sunlight against steel.

Blaine ducked his head to the side as a fountain of red opened up and arced across the water. Kurt swiped the fishing knife across the man's throat from ear to ear, finishing with a flourish and pushing the body neatly over the side.

Blaine realized that despite his dodge, tiny droplets of Gavin's blood were slowly dripping down his face. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, then gawked at the red smear across his skin. Gavin bobbed in the waves, staining the seas around them red, his head tilted back at an unnatural angle from his deeply notched throat.

Blaine gripped the railing, suddenly dizzy. His ears rang, and despite the peaceful quiet of the ocean he would swear that gunshots had just echoed through his brain. His eyes swam dark, and visions flashed before his eyes: green velvet, the sparkle of gold jewelry. He could smell it, too: sweat and blood and the smell of gunpowder. Blaine curled over the railing, tempted to vomit.

Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine's waist and attacked his ear, tonguing into him between sweet whispers. "I need to be inside of you, now!"

Blaine gulped and closed his eyes, turning away from the body. "You're ready again so soon, baby? We just came."

"Of course I am, and so are you," Kurt said, bemused, cupping the erection Blaine didn't know he had.

As Kurt's cock slid inside of Blaine, a gray-finned form cut through the crimson waves and swept the corpse under.

**A/N: Yay, creepy!fluff. And smut. This chapter is a little overly long, but I'm sick of just killing one character per chapter! I can't wait to move the story along. The "corpse flower" is real, and totally rad. Check it out sometime. Also, check out "Assassins." It was my favorite musical ever since I was a little kid (explains some things, doesn't it?) and it's very underappreciated. If there are any other Assassins geeks out there, drop me a line. I'd love to hear what your "dream team" of original cast vs. 2005 cast would be (NPH duh, but who else?)**


	11. Light and Shadow

**- PART TEN: LIGHT AND SHADOW -**

"_Have mercy on me..."_

_The disheveled creature gurgled into the carpet, smearing it with a mixture of blood and drool. She was obviously in terrible pain, a gaping wound replacing the lower half of her face and blood seeping from half a dozen other places on her body._

_There was only one way her torment was going to end. Kurt, left to his own devices, would only toy with her. Blaine had to finish this. The cold instrument of mercy shook in his hands as he focused on the target._

A jolt shook Blaine awake. He snorted and sat up suddenly, blinking in the sunlight and straining against his seatbelt. "Where are we?"

"About an hour into Virginia," Kurt said from the driver's seat. "We're getting close to the museum."

Blaine stretched and yawned. "Contemporary art or old stuff?"

"A mix, I think," Kurt said, eyes searching for the exit.

They drove up a circular driveway to the museum, housed in a renovated mansion dating back over a hundred years. The historical setting provided a perfect backdrop for a permanent collection of antiques, as well as an intriguing contrast to more modern works. Ivy climbed the brick walls, and leaded glass glowed brightly across the entire front of the building.

They paid the entry fee, joining a crowd of people attending a gala opening for the newest exhibit, a rare touring collection of Edwardian silver. To Kurt's delight, they started with the silver exhibit, then worked their way through the rest of the museum.

Kurt made several detours towards the refreshments, never actually taking anything to eat or drink. Blaine, ever the gentleman, tried to wait patiently for Kurt so that they could eat together, but ultimately the tempting array of snacks won out. "Kurt, aren't you hungry? They have some good stuff."

"Nah. It's not time yet." Kurt replied, moving on to an exhibit of paintings inspired by Times Square in New York.

After two hours, Blaine noticed a change in Kurt's expression. Something had caught his interest, but he didn't see what, and Blaine knew better to inquire in the midst of the crowd. All Blaine could see, to his dismay, was that the buffet was finally out of the delicious mini-quiches.

Kurt turned suddenly and headed toward the restrooms. Blaine trotted after him, completely at a loss but certain they weren't going to use the facilities.

Instead of entering the men's room, Kurt ducked through a nearby door that read "staff only." Blaine pushed open the door behind him, and stepped into the kitchen. Even this room was original to the mansion, with beautiful black-and-white 1940's tile and an authentically cramped sink.

A tall girl with straight, glossy black hair was turning to remove a pan of mini-quiches from the oven, oven mitts on her hands. She puffed her cheeks and blew a stray strand of hair back off of her forehead, sweat gleaming along the ridge of her prominent nose. Her dark brown eyes were large and expressive, made all the more so by a smudged rim of black eyeliner.

Her eyes were focused on her work, balancing the tray carefully to avoid getting burned and nudging the oven door closed. She never saw them coming.

Kurt stepped behind her, quiet as a cat, and pulled an elaborate Edwardian silver candlestick from beneath his jacket, swinging it overhead and straight down onto her skull.

The girl crumpled to the ground, a pallor creeping over her caramel skin as blood gushed from a wound on her head. The blood ran in rivulets down the seams in the tile, dazzlingly bright in the harsh lights of the kitchen, contrasted against the black and the white.

"I didn't even see you take that," Blaine muttered.

Kurt knelt and reached for a bright flash of color partially hidden under the girl's splayed hair, tugging free a yellow sunflower barette. He frowned as held the trinket up for inspection, noting the red specks marring the cheery color of the plastic petals. He brushed it briskly against the dead girl's crisp apron, then pocketed the flower. Finally, Kurt delivered three more swift blows with the base of the candlestick, denting her skull and ceasing her slow, grating breaths.

Kurt looked up at Blaine, furrowing his brow as he remembered something important. "Did you want some of those mini-quiches? Sorry... but look, some of them didn't touch the ground," Kurt said, indicating with the dripping candlestick.

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"That's disgusting," the woman spat, nodding her head towards the photograph. Her companion murmured in agreement and moved on to the next photo, remarking about the graffiti, and wasn't New York City so ugly in the 80's? And so very violent.

Washington, D.C. and New York City are both big cities. But New York is big and detailed, humming with life, and there's always more to see the closer you look. New York is dense, an entire world unto itself with people shoved in on top of each other in layers that are revealed when you care enough to see, like focusing a microscope.

D.C. is different. It is big and intimidating, and hums with power. Huge for the sake of being huge, cold, smooth marble towering in the air everywhere you look, obviously beautiful.

Here, a detail of New York hung captured in saturated photographs hanging on a smooth marble wall in D.C. That's what the woman deemed disgusting, and Kurt wasn't impressed by her attitude, not one bit. He liked that particular photo. A little too much, in fact.

After glaring briefly at the woman, he returned to staring at the picture, so long that Blaine made two and a half laps around the room before Kurt finally spoke.

"I don't see what her problem is. It's not even real."

"It looks pretty real to me," Blaine said, tracing a finger along the barrel of the gun, hovering a few inches above the print under the watchful eye of the guard at the doorway.

"Not the gun. That's real. I mean the scene. It's staged. They're just goofing. Look at him, he's not really scared," Kurt replied, pointing at the black man in the foreground, the barrel pressed firmly against his skull, eyes wide.

"Come on, babe, let's keep moving," Blaine said, tugging Kurt away from the photo and the overly curious guard.

A splash of color caught Blaine's eye as he passed an open doorway, stopping Blaine in his tracks. He turned to the painting, standing for a long while staring at it with a chill spreading across his chest.

"Hmm, Monet. 'The Artist's Garden at Vetheuil.' It's nice." Kurt glanced at Blaine with puzzled concern. "Are you okay?"

Blaine gulped and wondered to himself if he really was being stalked by his own too-real nightmares, or if it was just his conscious making him notice traces everywhere. "I'm fine, what's next?"

They moved on to an exhibit of George Bellows paintings. "This guy was really good," Blaine said, admiring the depictions of turn of the century boxers, muscles straining in a play of light and smoke. There were other works showing crowds at the sea or the park, or longshoremen at work, perfect slices of life in the city.

Blaine connected the dots. "New York, again?" he asked Kurt.

"It's beautiful," Kurt replied. "There's so much detail. An artist could live a hundred lifetimes and never run out of inspiration in a city like that."

"So it's a coincidence that we keep winding up at exhibits that feature New York City?" Blaine asked.

"Not really," Kurt sighed after a brief pause. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, nuzzling into his neck and rubbing his back, before they walked together into the next room.

He immediately wanted to turn back. Every wall held images of pain and death. Blaine flinched, his eyes flashing around the room. A plaque on the wall dated the group of paintings to 1918.

Blaine turned to find Kurt once again transfixed, his eyes locked on an enormous painting taking up one entire wall.

A naked young man was wrenched backwards as blood poured from his wrists. A pale hand, rendered in complete, craggy detail, lay limp on the ground. A soldier held a sword, captured in the midst of its arc through the air and the Belgian prisoner.

Blaine took Kurt by the hand and led him back to the Impressionist flowers.

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"It's getting kind of late, isn't it?" Blaine said, "Is anything else going to be open?"

"There's just one more place I want to check," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's wrist and tugging him forwards faster.

"Oh..." Blaine said once he derived the meaning, rolling his eyes in frustration. Of course they wouldn't be going to museums just to go to museums. "I'm hungry. Can't we get something in my stomach first?"

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Kurt asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Your stomach doesn't always react well to these... situations."

"Good point," Blaine frowned, quickening his pace.

They found her on the steps of the Library of Congress, her miniature easel set up on the sidewalk. Under her hands, oil pastels formed the shape of horses, eels, naked breasts of water nymphs. Her vision was far more sexualized, almost obscene, water splashing heavily against smooth, writhing bodies.

"Hi there, I'm Kurt! You must be Rosaline," Kurt said brightly, extending his hand to the bewildered girl.

"How did you know my name?" Rosaline said, putting down the stick of pigment and wiping her hands before returning the handshake.

"I'm a fellow recipient of the Armentrout Fellowship. Your mentor told me you'd be out drawing, and I thought we should meet. I wanted to talk to you about a possible collaboration."

"I don't remember seeing your picture in the paper," she said cautiously.

"The article comes out next week," Kurt said in obvious and fictitious pride. "I was a late addition. Anyway, is there somewhere we could talk?"

"I suppose," she said, shutting the lid on the bright purple case that held her oil pastels, "Why don't you walk with me back to my apartment? It isn't far."

"That's perfect!" Kurt chirped.

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"Your designs would be beautiful, if they weren't so base," Kurt cooed, tugging on the twisted knot of rope in his hands. Rosaline only sputtered, lacking the air to form a proper response. Her eyes bulged slightly, though whether from the insult or the increased pressure of the rope around her neck it was impossible to tell. Kurt made shushing noises, petting her hair and smoothing it back behind her ears.

Rosaline pressed her eyelids shut, then sprang them open again, revealing newly reddened sclera. Almost as an afterthought, her hands flew up to her throat, scrambling ineffectually at the thick rope. The movement started out frantic, but grew slower and weaker as she slowly lost consciousness and slumped in Kurt's arms. Kurt knotted the rope in place, then let the body slide to the ground.

"The river or the dump?" he asked, bending down to reassemble the case of oil pastels where Rosaline had dropped them to the ground.

"You pick," Blaine shrugged. "Hey, how did you know she'd be out drawing?"

"Facebook," Kurt said, "Kids these days, no sense of privacy."

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Blaine bounced a bit on his heels as they waited to cross the street, headed to the Museum of American History. Kurt twined their fingers together and grinned at Blaine's obvious excitement.

The light changed, and the boys skipped across the street hand in hand. It was childish, but who cared? They were going to see Kermit! Blaine turned his head to look back at Kurt, giggling, and nearly ran them headlong into a district police officer.

"Woah there, guys, careful," the officer said. "Hey," he continued, straightening up. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Blaine's good mood drained out of his body to the ground, so quickly it left his mind reeling. He couldn't breathe, but his chest felt like it might explode. Every instinct told him to flee but his brain overrode the impulse and he looked to Kurt, whose face held an endearing smile that never faltered. "Certainly, officer, how can we help?" Kurt asked.

"Have you seen this girl?" The officer thrust a flier in their faces. Blaine didn't need to see the picture to know who was depicted, but he couldn't help glancing anyway, trying to keep the flash of recognition from showing in his eyes.

"I don't think so, officer, but she does look familiar somehow. Was her picture in the paper?" Kurt asked, glancing quickly at Blaine.

"Actually, yes, she won some kind of scholarship recently." The officer sighed, putting the picture away.

Kurt shook his head. "She's so young. What happened to her?" he asked, sadly.

"We don't know that anything has happened. She's just missing. Her name is Rosaline Burroughs, and her parents are very worried about her."

"But don't you guys usually wait until someone has been missing for 48 hours or something before looking? Maybe she just ran away. There would have to be a reason to think something bad happened if you're looking already."

The officer gave Kurt a strange look, his right hand shifting subtly to his belt. "Well, she's only been missing since yesterday, but there have been an abnormally high number of attacks on kids about your age this summer. You two should be careful."

"Wait, are you saying that there's some kind of serial killer on the loose? Why hasn't it been on the news?" Kurt's eyes were wide and fearful, innocent and vulnerable

"I'm not saying anything of the sort. But sometimes the police have to keep their theories off of the news at first in order to make it possible to catch the bad guys. So just keep an eye out, especially if you two are into musical theater or whatever." The officer's eyes flashed to their clothes and the closeness of their stance, and cleared his throat, relaxing a little.

"We will, officer, thank you. I hope you find her." Kurt led a trembling Blaine away.

"What the hell was that?" Blaine hissed once they were out of range of hearing.

"That was an example of thoroughly unprofessional law enforcement. His hints weren't exactly subtle. He really shouldn't have answered my questions at all."

"Okay. But, Kurt. Why where you asking questions?" Blaine whispered, scrubbing a hand across his face.

Kurt giggled. "I wanted to know stuff. Don't get so worked up, I was just having a little fun."

"Your idea of 'a little fun' will be the death of me someday, Kurt." Blaine scowled.

Kurt's face fell and a sharp look flashed across his eyes. "That's not funny."

"Neither was what you did. This isn't a game and the police aren't going to play with you. I just can't handle it." Blaine ducked away briefly, trying to keep his composure.

"You worry too much" Kurt cooed, skipping his fingertips along Blaine's cheek and ear.

"I'm not going to argue about it with you," Blaine said sternly. "You can't take risks like that. If you got caught..." Blaine ducked his head and pressed his fingers to his eyes, staunching the tears that he could not hold back a second longer.

"I wouldn't let them get to you, you know that, right?" Kurt said, rubbing Blaine's shoulder and craning around in an attempt to look into his eyes.

"You're still missing the point. I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about you. I'm worried about us. We have to be more careful, Kurt. If either of us gets caught, what was the point of any of it? Please, promise me you won't screw around with law enforcement any more."

"Okay, sweetheart, I promise. Let's get going to the museum, okay?"

"I'm not in the mood anymore," Blaine muttered.

**A/N: I'm sorry this update took so long. I've been suffering from hiatus headblock and it took extreme measures to get it fixed. Enjoy the update, and please leave some feedback. I've written a chapter ahead so the next update will be much faster, less than a week. After that we get into the really good stuff.**


	12. Get Happy

**- PART ELEVEN: GET HAPPY -**

The next morning, Blaine rolled out of bed sticky, then stumbled into the hotel shower. He dressed and began to pack his things for the drive back to Ohio. Kurt, always the early riser, was already showered with his hair perfectly arranged by the time Blaine got up.

Blaine noticed the case of oil pastels sitting on the desk. "What do you want me to do with this?" he asked, holding it up for Kurt's inspection.

"Toss it in that chest," Kurt said, indicating a small case that matched the rest of Kurt's extensive luggage set. Blaine unsnapped the lid and picked up the oil pastel set to toss it inside, stopping short when he saw the other contents of the small trunk.

Everything was folded and arranged with care, showing a diverse display of colors and materials. The effect was that of a shadowbox, but nothing was glued in place. Blaine lifted a gauzy white skirt, running his hand over the soft fabric that was marred with tiny brown dots of dried blood. He touched a familiar sunflower barrette. Finally, he picked up a very recognizable green velvet flower, an image that had been burned into his brain and recurred in his nightmares.

Something clicked in his mind, and as he set down the oil pastel case next to the other items, he could not help but ask the question that could no longer be ignored.

"Kurt, by any chance... did you play the game Clue a lot as a kid, growing up?"

"Almost every week, until my mom died. It was her favorite. Why?"

"Never mind," Blaine grinned. Kurt's subconscious was a delicious puzzle to him still. He continued pawing through the box of treasures, coming across a sparkling gold star and a red leather belt. The only unfamiliar item in the chest, in fact, was a bundled up piece of plastic wrap. Without really thinking it through, Blaine picked up the item and picked apart the layers of plastic until the contents were revealed.

Blaine shuddered and recoiled from the object, squishing the plastic back in place and dropping it before slamming the lid shut.

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"Are we going to be able to make it back to your dad's house tonight, babe?" Blaine asked as he fiddled with the radio. Unable to find anything except the wrong kind of political talk radio and country music, he plugged in his iPod and spun up his Katy Perry playlist.

"Again, Blaine? You'd think that between all of the gigs on both of our iPods we wouldn't have to listen to that playlist like every other day."

"Have to? No. Want to? Yes." Blaine grinned and pressed play.

Kurt huffed in mock-frustration, grinning slyly. Blaine was cute when he was acting on an obsession. "To answer your question, I don't think we'll make it home in time for dinner, but we won't be too late. We just need to take care of this one errand and get back on the highway. It won't be a problem."

"Okay," Blaine said, "I hope you know where you're going," he added before belting out the next verse.

Kurt steered the car onto a barely-visible old logging road, driving slowly to preserve the car's suspension. "This parcel backs up onto a national park, so it's not technically federal land but still rather remote. Anyway, this looks like a good spot. Give me a hand?"

"Always," Blaine replied cheerily, pausing the iPod and hopping out of the car.

Together they lifted the bound boy from the trunk compartment, Blaine carrying the heavier head and shoulders and Kurt dealing with his thrashing legs. They set him down on the ground, where he squirmed like a dying fish, trying to ineffectually move away from the pair.

Kurt pulled a baseball bat from the car and spun it around in his hand, contemplating the boy, who happened to be named Johns. "Let's take him further into the woods," he said, snatching up the kicking legs once again.

After twenty minutes of trudging through the forest, Kurt tossed the boy down, letting him land roughly on a pile of rocks.

"I think I'm going to sit this one out," Blaine said, curling his lip at the sight of the baseball bat, reminded of his own experiences as the victim of violence. Blaine walked some distance into the woods and stretched out against a tree, putting on his headphones to listen to the rest of the playlist in peace while Kurt did what he needed to do.

Kurt shrugged, turning to his prey. "A small town boy, Johns? We're practically neighbors," Kurt smirked.

Johns wailed in response, muffled by the gag stuffed into his jaws. Kurt knelt and loosened the rags so that he could get responses to his questions.

"That's better. Now, Johns, what makes you think you deserve to go to NYADA? You had to write an application essay, correct? Surely you can justify yourself."

"Let me go, please, oh god, please, my parents can pay, do you want money? Oh god..." Johns babbled, tears streaming down his face.

"You're lying. I saw your house. You parents don't have money. Not that it matters, anyway. What a bore." Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on now, must you fall to pieces at the first hint of a challenge? I asked you a fucking question. What makes you think you should have gotten into NYADA? Tell me!" Kurt punctuated the phrase with a crack to Johns' knee, which didn't help the boy focus on Kurt's questions.

Kurt sat down hard on a rock, tossing the bat down at his feet. He set his face in his hands and rubbed his forehead. This wasn't working. It had been a stressful day, and all he wanted was the satisfaction of answers to a few simple questions. A nagging voice at the back of his mind told him that the questions weren't simple, and that the answers might never come.

Kurt broke down, crying softly, grateful that Blaine was out of sight on the other side of a tree and probably couldn't hear him over the music. Blaine had been wonderful, so supportive, and the last thing Kurt wanted was to worry him more by showing his courage slipping. He stayed like that for several minutes, letting out some pent-up tension in the peace and quiet of the forest, until a sharp rock came singing through the air and struck him in the head.

Kurt fell backwards onto the forest floor, dazed and bleeding from a ragged gash to the pale skin stretched across his temple. He blinked and tried to focus, detecting a scrambling sound somewhere past his feet, as Johns picked up the baseball bat and charged. Kurt was barely able to roll out of the way as the bat crashed down upon him.

"Blaine!" He cried, crawling away behind a rock, his head spinning. He tried to get to his feet, but had to dive away as Johns swung again. Kurt landed on his back, and this time when Johns swung the bat it connected, sending pain shooting through Kurt's ribcage.

Kurt moaned and coughed, curling into a ball. The pain was overwhelming and he couldn't think straight, couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears, couldn't see through the blood in his eyes, couldn't fight back. Johns' shadow loomed over him, and Kurt was only able to cringe in response to the threatening figure.

A sickening crack rang out, and Johns fell at Kurt's side, an ugly dent newly marring his head. Blaine tossed aside the sharp stone in his hands, then picked up the bat and bashed John's skull once, twice, thrice, until his face was past the point of being recognizable as a face. Blaine wiped off the handle of of the bat and tossed it on the ground, then dropped to his knees at Kurt's side.

"Baby, baby, look at me," Blaine begged, his eyes brimming with tears. "Can you hear me? Oh my god, you're bleeding so much."

"It's not that bad," Kurt mumbled. He tried to sit up, but immediately winced and dropped back down. He was sure he had several cracked ribs, and the blood was stinging his eyes.

Blaine choked back a sob. He wiped the blood off of Kurt's face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then gently took Kurt in his arms and picked him up, cradling him to his chest. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, crying softly from pain and relief as Blaine carried him out of the forest.

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"Dad, we're home!" Kurt called, dragging a suitcase across the threshold. Blaine followed close behind, carrying the smallest trunk directly up to Kurt's bedroom. Kurt set his suitcase down, adjusted his hat to make sure it still concealed the bandage on his forehead, and went looking for his father in the kitchen. He found Burt there, washing up the dinner dishes. Burt dried his hands quickly on a dishtowel, pulling his son in to a bear hug.

"I missed you, kid. How was the trip?"

"It was great, dad," Kurt beamed, "We went out on a boat in Florida, and went to the Smithsonian in Washington. It was so much fun. Just what I needed."

"That's great... it makes me feel better." Burt said, clearing his throat and glancing at his shoes. He turned to the refrigerator and pulled down something that had been affixed to it with a magnet. "Kurt, by the way, I have something for you. A detective has been coming by, and he gave me his business card. He wants you to give him a call."

Kurt took the card gingerly between two fingers. "Sure dad, I'll do that," he said lightly. "What... what did you tell him?"

"Nothing, just that you were out," Burt said gruffly. "I didn't want him bothering you while you were on vacation. This must be about that kid in Dayton who disappeared?"

"Must be," Kurt smiled, pocketing the card casually. "Are there any leftovers? I'm famished."

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Kurt opened the front door and braced himself, wincing as a small, brunette form hurled itself at his body. Arms wrapped around his waist and a squealing filled the room, only partially muffled against his chest.

"Kurt! It's been so long! I've missed you! I was worried, you really should have called more often."

"Rachel, we texted nearly every day," Kurt sighed, leading her into the kitchen and setting up the coffee pot to brew.

"I know, but with all of the disappearances lately that was simply insufficient." Rachel pressed him back from her grasp and held him at arm's length to look him up and down, her eyes twinkling. "You look good, how are things with Blaine? He went with you on your little vacation, did he not?"

"He did, we're good. How about you? Any..." Kurt studied her fallen expression. "Never mind."

"I'm focusing on myself right now," Rachel said brightly after recovering her smile. "Besides, the last thing I want is to be attached to some guy in Ohio when I'm trying to make my dreams come true in New York City. Finn was right about that."

"Well, it's great that you've come to terms with that, Rachel," Kurt said, pouring them each a cup of coffee and sitting down at the kitchen table across from the brunette girl. "How has your summer been otherwise? What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Well, I mostly stay home, to tell you the truth," Rachel said, "You've been gone, and my dads are being very strict about me going places alone. They don't want what happened to those other kids to happen to me, even if the police kept insisting that there isn't a killer on the loose." Rachel's eyes darkened and she took a shaky gulp of her coffee.

"Who would know better than the police? What reason would they have to mislead people? You shouldn't worry so much." Kurt said coolly, stirring just a bit of sugar into his coffee.

"Maybe they don't want to cause a panic, or don't want the killer to know they're on to him! Or maybe they're wrong, Kurt, did you ever think of that? You can't brush this off, Kurt. You could be next. You don't know what that would do to me... or Blaine or your dad. Promise me you'll be more careful." Tears were rolling down Rachel's face, and she gripped Kurt's hand tightly over the table.

Kurt's face twitched as he suppressed a smile. "I promise I'll be more careful, Rach. Now, how about a song to cheer you up? I know just the one."

Rachel smiled softly and nodded, her face brightening further when Kurt began to hum and she recognized the song enough to join in.

"Forget your troubles (Happy days)  
Come on get happy (are here again)  
You better chase all your cares away (The skies above  
are clear again)  
Shout hallelujah (So let's sing a song)  
Come on get happy (of cheer again)  
Get ready for the judgment day (Happy days are here  
again)"

**A/N: Get ready... the next chapter packs a punch, and then the story REALLY gets rolling. What do you all think? Also, for my lovely repeat reviewers who I can't respond to directly, thank you so much for your support, and I promise you that Heteronormatroll doesn't bother me one little bit!**


	13. Losing Control

**- PART TWELVE: LOSING CONTROL -**

"Do you trust me?"

"I trust you."

"Completely?"

"Completely."

"I know. I just like to hear it."

Kurt smiled and craned his head down to kiss Blaine slowly, licking his tongue into Blaine's mouth and bridging the last remnants of distance between them.

Blaine was on his back on the bed, fully naked, of course, and tied down with a pillow tucked under his ass. He shivered as Kurt's nimble fingers tied the strip of chiffon fabric across his eyes, not enough to completely block his vision but enough to leave him helpless. He felt, rather than saw, Kurt clasp the delicate gold star necklace around his neck.

Kurt shifted his weight to remove one more item from the trunk. _Not the ear, not the ear, please let it not be the ear, _Blaine thought as Kurt hovered over him. He relaxed as he heard the click of a barette fastening around a lock of his hair.

Blaine relaxed against Kurt's touch as long, strong fingers probed between his legs. His cock throbbed for attention, despite the fact that he was strung taught against the mattress at an odd angle with his hips in the air, adorned with ladies' accessories.

"Don't worry about the prep, Kurt. I need you, now!" Blaine groaned, twisting his hips to make closer contact with Kurt's fingers.

Kurt spread lube across his fingers and slid them, wretchedly slowly, into Blaine's ass. "Shhh, just let me take care of you. And of course I'm going to prep you. I could never hurt you, Blaine. Never, ever ever." He punctuated each word with a kiss dropped onto the skin of Blaine's belly, then nuzzled into the curly hair around Blaine's navel as he began to slide his fingers in and out.

Blaine bucked his hips to the sky, taking Kurt's fingers as deeply as he could manage while still tethered to the bed. Kurt held his hand steady, pressing down on Blaine's hips. "You're not the boss here," he cooed. "You'll get more when I give you more. Just let me."

Blaine moaned in response to the words, then wailed as Kurt scissored his fingers "Maybe I'll just go ahead and give you more," Kurt smirked.

"Kurt, please, I can't take the tease," Blaine whimpered.

"I don't think this counts as a tease. I am fingering you," Kurt mused.

"Whatever, the point is that I desperately need your cock. Please, baby, fuck me. Please, oh god, please!" Blaine thrashed on the bed, consumed by want. Kurt slipped his fingers from inside of Blaine, and shifted forward onto his knees.

"You want me to fuck you now? You don't want any more foreplay? Are you suuure?" Kurt purred, teasing the head of his cock at Blaine's entrance.

"Please, please..." Blaine sobbed, thrashing his head back and forth blindly.

Kurt gripped Blaine's thighs and slid into him wordlessly, steadily sinking until he bottomed out in one smooth stroke. Blaine's voice rose to a wail as Kurt filled him completely.

Kurt began to thrust into his boyfriend, making a lewd slapping noise between them as he worked up a sweat against his body. Kurt ran his fingertips along the star at Blaine's clavicle, then the sunflower in his hair.

Blaine whined and arced his body upward, straining against the bonds, seeking Kurt's face for a kiss. Kurt grinned at the sight of his blindfolded boyfriend. He stilled himself deep inside of Blaine, then changed the motion from aggressive pounding to a slow, controlled rolling of the hips, nuzzling Blaine's face until their lips met and he could kiss him deeply as he moved.

Blaine's fingers pressed white marks into Kurt's shoulders as they came together, tongues tangled and teeth clashing to mirror the rest of their bodies.

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Burt walked into the kitchen as Kurt was making dinner, filled a water glass at the sink and took a drink. "Kurt, that detective stopped by the shop again. You really ought to call him back," he said casually, before wiping his mouth.

"Oh, I guess I forgot. I'll call him tomorrow," Kurt replied, chopping the carrots with just a bit more emphasis than he had been a moment ago.

"Come on, Kurt, this is important. He needs to rule you out as a suspect to move on with the investigation. You know that kid had a family and all that, they gotta be hurting, not knowing what happened to him, or why. It would gut me for you to disappear like that, to never know what happened to you." Burt was leaning against the counter now, watching Kurt as he worked.

"But Blaine and I know nothing about it, so we have nothing to contribute to his investigation." Kurt shrugged and reached for an onion, keeping his back to his father.

"Who said anything about Blaine? He doesn't have any connection to NYADA and didn't go to those mixer things, right?"

Kurt's eyes flicked to the side as he thought quickly. "I thought you said he wanted to talk to Blaine, too? The other day?"

"I don't remember saying that. No, he didn't want Blaine, just you." Burt folded his arms across his chest as he spoke.

"Thank God," Kurt mumbled, his mouth set in a hard line. He started to peel the onion, tears smarting in his eyes.

"What's that, bud?" Burt said.

"I said I'll do it, dad. Don't worry." Kurt finished the onion as he spoke, then wiped his eyes, thankful for the excuse to cry.

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Blaine came to see Kurt after dinner. When he arrived, he headed straight upstairs after a nod to Burt. When he opened the door to Kurt's bedroom, he found an unusually chaotic scene.

Clothes were draped over every possible surface. Kurt's closet doors were blown wide open, and every drawer was pulled out. The trinket trunk sat on the floor next to the bed, unopened. Two suitcases of different sizes sat on top of the bed, each half-full with a variety of clothing and other items.

Kurt himself was seated at his vanity, rubbing his eyes. He jumped at the touch as Blaine approached him from behind and began to rub his shoulders.

"What's going on, Kurt? Can I help?" Blaine asked. As he spoke, he mentally calculated how quickly he could drive home, pack a suitcase and get back to the Hudson-Hummel house.

Kurt shook his head absently. "There's nothing for you to do. I just have to think."

"This doesn't look like just thinking, to me. Are you going somewhere? Are WE going somewhere?" Blaine asked, veering into a stern tone.

Kurt whipped his head around, looking up into Blaine's eyes, the distance fading from his vision. "I thought we should get out of town for a while," he said.

"Kurt, we just got back. How long is a while?" Blaine asked.

"I'm... I'm not sure," Kurt replied.

Blaine knelt on the floor, clasping both of Kurt's hands in his own, and looked up steadily at Kurt's face. "Open and honest, remember?" he said, voice roughened by emotion, "I want the truth."

"Okay," Kurt whispered.

"This is it, isn't it? We aren't coming back?"

Kurt bit his lip and nodded slowly, his blue eyes brimming with tears.

Overcome, Blaine threw his arms around Kurt's waist and sobbed into his chest. Kurt let his cheek drop to Blaine's curls and cried as well, his own stoicism completely dismantled by Blaine's tears. They stayed there, entwined, until each were cried out.

Blaine stood and cupped Kurt's face in his hands, brushing his thumb across Kurt's cheekbone to wipe away the remaining tears. "I'm gonna run home and pack, but I'll be back. It won't take me an hour," he said.

Kurt nuzzled into Blaine's palm for a moment, then sniffled and looked up. "Okay. Leave your suitcase in the car when you come back. I don't want my dad to know." He barely managed not to break into sobs again as he spoke, and Blaine gave him a quick squeeze before wiping his own eyes and heading out of the room.

When Blaine came back, the room had been restored to something resembling its normal order. Only one door of the closet still stood open, and Kurt knelt on the floor in front of it, his head and shoulders buried inside. He was rummaging around so intently that he didn't appear to register Blaine's presence.

"Whatcha looking for, babe?" Blaine asked.

"I know they're in here somewhere. I threw them into the deepest, darkest corner of these catacombs in a fit of pique, and haven't touched them since." Kurt shouted, muffled by rows of skinny jeans.

"Them?" Blaine replied, attempting to clarify what was probably the least confusion part of the sentence.

"Ah! Found them!" Kurt shouted, wriggling his rear end until he was able to back out of the closet, a shiny golden garment held triumphantly in his hands.

Blaine's eyes widened and his cock twitched as he recognized the item. "I didn't realize you kept those, after..." he said, clearing his throat to try and remove the huskiness from his voice.

Kurt snapped the pants flat and folded them briskly. "They were rather expensive... and very flattering."

"Yes, very flattering," Blaine echoed, his voice sliding into huskiness once more.

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It was after midnight when they pulled away from the house, headlights off until they reached the main road. Kurt wanted to make absolutely sure that Burt, Carole and Finn were all sound asleep when they left.

"Did you have a destination in mind?" Blaine asked as they approached the entrance to the highway.

"Just drive west," Kurt sighed, slumping in the passenger seat and throwing his arm over his tired eyes.

"All right, do you mind if I listen to the radio? I could use the distraction." Blaine replied, switching the device on in response to Kurt's gentle nod.

"You got a fast car

But is it fast enough so we can fly away

We gotta make a decision

We leave tonight or live and die this way"

Blaine winced and snapped the radio off. "Maybe the iPod..." he muttered, plugging the converter in before turning the radio back on. He sang along as a familiar track played.

"If I could find a way to see this straight

I'd run away

To some fortune that I should have found by now

And so I run now to the things they said could restore me

Restore life the way it should be

I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down"

Blaine reached across the center console to take Kurt's hand. As soon as their fingers intertwined, Kurt squeezed hard, the blood rushing from his knuckles and turning the skin pale, stretched across the bones of his hand.

The stars moved past as the car flew westward, speeding them from their old life and into the future.

**A/N: I don't know about you guys, but just writing this made me super-sad, and they didn't even kill anyone! What did you think? Please review!**


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